


That's Me In The Spotlight

by Leeds_to_larry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:28:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 212,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leeds_to_larry/pseuds/Leeds_to_larry





	1. Chapter 1

Je deteste Paris, Louis muttered under his breath as he stepped off the curb straight into a fresh pile of dog shit. Fantastique. Fan-fucking-tastic.  
It honestly didn't matter that he'd ruined a suede pair of Saint Laurent boots – he'd nicked them from work and he'd do the same once he arrived there in ten minutes. Of course, sample size was a bit big for him, but having to wear thick socks every day had become part of his routine years ago.  
Having several thousand euro worth of clothing at his fingertips didn't excite him one bit, which said something about how jaded he'd gotten since moving to Paris from the French countryside thirteen years ago. Louis' eyes cast over to the dome of the Louvre just visible in the distance. So tacky. Stupid fucking pyramid, this isn't Egypt for fuck's sake...  
Definitely jaded.  
He'd arrived in Paris at the fresh age of nineteen and back then, the Louvre was his Mecca, a  
shiny glass lid that contained everything that mattered to him: Fashion Week. He'd only gone to two shows and had to sit way in the back, but that didn't matter. Actually, it was probably for the best that he was hidden at the back, because Balmain had actually made him cry – 2002 had a lot of shiny blacks and daring textures that looked so good they were like a visual massage. That's what fashion was to Louis: something so perfectly beautiful that it actually hurt. Nothing else ever made him feel that way.  
Louis took to the fashion industry like a duck to water – and perhaps the industry took to him just as well, a clear-skinned young boy with a light tan, neatly trimmed hair moulded in to a messy quiff, cute Peter-Pan features balanced out by just the perfect amount of scruff on his jaw.  
He was well-dressed, too, and had the confidence that made lesser-known brands go from 'pedestrian' to 'independent designer'. Louis wasn't saying that he brought Nevalia to Paris, but – well, yes. He was saying that. At his second fashion week a paparazzo had grabbed him by the arm, practically slamming him against the backdrop yelling, 'Who are you wearing, who are you wearing?' That was all it took. Nevalia had been featured in the next month's issue of Vogue Paris.  
By his fourth fashion week, he was working backstage and had to catch a model as she fainted. Later that year in Milan he'd dealt with his first celebrity overdose at an afterparty – he suddenly realised that was why his boss had made him take a full course of first aid for a simple senior assistant job.  
As for this year? The models had only gotten thinner. He'd spent more time lining up coke for them than actually seeing the clothes themselves, and that wasn't anything other than expected. He did get a special invitation to Valentino, which he'd thought he was really looking forward to, but in half the photographs of the runway models you could see him there in the front row; yawning.  
Casually tossing €3,500 shoes into a bin before stepping barefoot into the foyer of his work, 32- year old Louis Tomlinson was a far cry from the teenager who had pranced around Paris with Madonna's Vogue on repeat off his iPod.  
\-----  
It was unfair, and Harry Styles told his pastor exactly that: “This is completely unfair!”  
He'd waited his whole life for this. Each year he watched his older cousins go overseas; Indonesia, Ghana, India, Malta, Samoa, the list went on. They'd return a year or so later, skin tanned and faith strengthened tenfold. That was what Harry lived and breathed for, that was why he had fast- tracked his schooling to graduate early, that was why he spent his babysitting money on a big hiking backpack.  
A backpack he wouldn’t even get to use now. It was so unfair.  
Harry had watched in despair as the breaking news came up on the Christian Network TV channel. Due to escalations of violence in several developing countries, the United Nations had passed a new regulation: no religious missionaries under the age of 25.  
Sixteen-year-old Harry had thought he would be on a plane in a matter of months, now he had to wait almost ten years?  
It was so, so unfair.  
Father Alan had pointed Harry towards a verse in 2 Samuel: God, your covenant is trustworthy, and you have promised these good things to your servant.  
That was comforting. Harry felt bad for reacting so strongly – of course God had good things planned for him. He'd always thought a mission at sixteen was part of that plan, but who was he to argue with God? This is exactly what faith was; trusting His plan.  
Harry had only needed to exercise his faith for a couple of weeks before God came through on that promise.  
Father Alan had a lot of connections with CNTV. He had sworn Harry and his parents to secrecy before passing them over a television show pitch.  
Modern Missionary, CNTV, 2014.  
The United Nations passing of an age regulation for religious missions has left hundreds of thousands of young Americans questioning how they can best use the next few years of their lives to serve God.  
Modern Missionary will follow a Christian teenager on a tour across the country. It will promote the message that anyone can be a missionary, right here in America. The starring teen will visit several states and cities, meeting people from all walks of life, saving them through Jesus and ultimately reflecting strong Christian family values to the audience.  
Seeking 16-19, male or female, Caucasian American or African-American teenager, high school completed, with Christian family and strong ties to a church.  
“This sounds sick!” Harry had nodded enthusiastically once he'd read it over his mother's shoulder. “I don't have a 'demo reel' though, whatever that is.”  
Father Alan had smiled sagely at him. “You've given your testament more than once to our church, and you were absolutely fantastic as Joseph in The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat last year. We have it all on film. I've clipped it together, and if your parents agree we can send it off.”  
Like nearly every decision made in the Styles family, no choice was made on the spot. They prayed about it together every morning for a week.  
Finally, his dad had agreed. “Father Alan can give the tape to his friend. It's in God's hands if you get called in to audition or not.”  
“Just don't get your hopes up, sweetheart,” his mother had quickly added. “A lot of the kids who  
try out are proper actors, who have worked in television since they were little kids.”  
Harry prayed harder about this than anything ever before. He spent twice as long on his bible study each day, and he started to think, I could really do this. My faith means everything to me. I could share it, with the whole country.  
It seemed like the casting agents at CNTV agreed too. Harry was a boisterous, cheeky teenager and his nerves at auditions only brought him down far enough to be – what had he seen the casting agent scribble down? 'Sweet. charming. witty enough. good face.'  
He made it through round one, two, and three and then his mother finally got the call – he'd been chosen! He'd be touring the country for four months, cameras on him every minute. He was going to be famous.  
He silently mouthed a thousand thankyous at church the next Sunday. It was scary, to think that in just a month he'd be far, far away from Texas. His church was large, a parish of several thousand at their busiest, but every face was familiar.  
He'd be seeing hundreds of new churches, though. He was the modern missionary.  
\-----  
Louis, half-drunk off good French wine, opened up Facebook on his iPad. He probably hadn't gone on in about two years, but his hands automatically entered a password and it logged in on the first try. He needed someone to talk to, anyone – just not someone who'd be barely listening in from a bluetooth while their hands were preoccupied with polaroids of aspiring models or a hundred different squares of sample fabric.  
One name brought a smile to his face. He'd met Joni maybe five years ago at New York Fashion Week, where she was head of filmography, or the media department, or the documentation producer... something like that. One of those people that stayed stuck behind a camera and probably didn't even know which designer they were filming.  
That year, Louis' boyfriend had broken up with him via text message: All you care about is work. I can't do this any more. Louis had more or less fallen apart, being four thousand miles too far away to fix the situation. He'd gotten a pill of something from a makeup artist, washed it down with champagne, and two hours later Joni had found him in a women's bathroom cubicle, crying into toilet paper.  
The whole story had come spilling out, but after a while Joni had started laughing. “I'm not sure if it's just your accent, but... what was his name again?”  
“Jean.”  
Joni laughed harder. “You said Jules before. You definitely said Jules. Are you sure you really care about this guy?”  
“I care about his cock!” Louis had wailed, desperately grabbing at Joni's arms to make her understand the gravity of the situation. “It was so beautiful.”  
“I'm sure mini-Jean, or mini-Jules, or mini-whoever was simply magnificent. Who cares? Plenty more dicks in the sea, my friend. C'mon, I'll take you to a bar.”  
Louis had loved spending the evening with her, conversation flowing inside a little hole-in-the wall bar. They caught up each year in New York, but didn't talk much in between.  
Hey Joni, Louis typed.  
Oh my god, Louie! She replied. I forgot I even had you on here! How are you? Yeah, just... no, I'm fine. How are you?  
Go on. Tell me what's up.  
And once again Louis opened up to her.  
Sounds like you're completely fed up with work, Joni had typed when Louis finally stopped. You can say it again, Louis replied.  
It's 'you can say THAT again' ;) Listen, it doesn't sound like there's much keeping you in France besides work, right? No boyfriend, no pet cat, no mortgage?  
Joni went on, somehow selling Louis on the idea of a complete seachange. It was the perfect time to find a job in the American film industry, she explained, and he'd love working in a wardrobe department – full creative control, and actors ate at least enough to not be permanently cranky. Joni had enough influence, she'd help him find a job.  
It's still money and fame and celebrity superficiality, she warned, but it's a different type over here in the States.  
Louis all but forgot about their conversation – perhaps he'd been a bit more than half-drunk when they'd chatted. When he got an email asking him to schedule a Skype interview, it took him a minute to make the connection. Still, they wanted to do it 4pm Paris time, and Louis would welcome any interruption to his day job.  
“Oh my gaaaaad, I looove the accent,” a woman with larger-than-life blonde hair had squawked down the webcam.  
It just snowballed all on its own – Louis had never considered leaving Paris, let alone France, and didn't Americans buy cheese in a can? But he'd basically given up on the whole world, that kind of apathy where you'd probably be suicidal if you just cared enough about how sad you were, but Louis didn't care about anything. Not two days later he'd electronically signed a 6 month contract.  
Giving his two week's notice was the most exhilarating thing he'd done in years (including the Prada model he'd fucked the night before).  
The panic set in when he opened the email containing both his flight information and a comprehensive job description.  
He surveyed the .pdf in horror. What fresh hell is this? echoed in his brain - a phrase Joni had taught him that he loved. Modern Missionary? Louis didn't know the first thing about religion. After all, fashion had been his religion since the day he first opened his mother's copy of Harper's Bazaar. He still remembered every detail – the April 1990 issue had the iconic Cindy Crawford on the cover, her brown hair and white blazer drawing him in, he could almost hear her whisper to his eight-year-old self; 'Open the magazine, Louis.'  
Louis massaged his temples as he scrolled through the email, the situation only getting worse. He was primarily dressing a 16 year old boy – that part wasn't the problem, Louis was used to models even younger than that – but this kid was just... ridiculous. Brown curly hair that was at least an inch past what constituted a flattering haircut. An earnest smile plastered across his face – who the hell actually smiles in headshots these days?  
Continuing on past the portrait didn't cheer Louis up at all – a full-body photograph showed the kid in baggy jeans with the crotch halfway down to his knees, and a white polo shirt that looked warped out of shape. He wasn't at all fat, quite small actually, but he looked so... soft.  
Hamburgers, Louis murmured in disgust. Deep-fried hamburgers, probably.  
Louis felt like he might actually be sick - the polo shirt didn't even have a logo on it, it was off-  
brand.  
Still, it was a unique challenge. Rags to fucking riches. Louis rolled his eyes, clicking over to the flight information with a vision of California beaches in his head.  
DALLAS, TX. The ticket clearly stated.  
Non, non, non, Louis whispered, wondering if he could take back his resignation and stay in Paris with soft cheeses (not from a can), where people knew the difference between a Birkin and a Kelly, where people minded their own business, where he never, ever had to talk to anyone wearing a polo shirt.  
'TX'? As in... Texas?  
He numbly dialled the phone number of the show's producer, Jeremy, forgetting to take the time difference in consideration. It was explained to him that the show was starting in Texas for two week's worth of background filming before they started a nationwide tour.  
“Tour? But where will I live, I thought I'd get a house?”  
“Yes, tour.” Jeremy had sighed. “Did you read your contract? Hotels are provided for the duration of filming, you won't need a house for several months. Goodnight.”  
Louis had cried while packing up five suitcase's worth of clothes. The production company could cover him for extra baggage allowance, he didn't care. He already felt homesick – he needed his clothes. All of his clothes. They were what made him happy.  
By the time the plane took off, Louis had started to come around to the idea. Paris would always be there, and for better or worse the bitches and the sleazes of the industry would still be there as well.  
There was a Polo Ralph Lauren advertisement in the in-flight magazine. Now there was a bonus Louis hadn't considered: American men. Maybe he'd fuck a different one in each state he visited. That would make this tolerable.  
A yellow taxi picked him up from the airport. Louis wound down the window, letting the warm Texas air wake him up. It didn't take long to get to the producer's pop-up office. It was next door to a large department store with a sign in the window: YES, WE SELL GUNS.  
“Jeremy Wash, executive producer,” introduced himself to Louis, flashing a smile that seemed to contain about a hundred paper-white teeth. “You must be Louis,” he continued, the 's' hissing through his teeth.  
“Lou-ie,” he corrected. “It's French.”  
“Sure, Lou-ie, got it. Now our rising star Harry is here, you can do your measurements and whatnot now. We're screen testing wardrobe in three days. My assistant will make sure your bags are delivered to your hotel.” He snapped his fingers at a woman who, Louis realised, had been following them down the hallway. “Linda, have you got a company card set up for Louis?” he asked, hitting the 's' again.  
“It's Lou-ie,” He tried with Linda the assistant as she handed him a black American Express card. That was something he could get behind, at least.  
They entered a conference room where a brunet teenager sat, dwarfed by the enormous desk in front of him. He looked like he was about to speak, but Jeremy held up his hand to silence him, answering the beep of his bluetooth headset. “Lindaaaah,” he drawled in his American accent. “What do you mean he has five suitcases?!” An exasperated look was shot at Louis, but Louis didn't notice – his eyes were still fixed on the teen.  
“Sort it out!” Jeremy barked, then he turned to Harry, “I'll be back in half an hour.” Like that, he was gone, and Louis and Harry were alone.  
Louis surveyed the boy warily. He was wearing black track pants with two white stripes down the side – Louis very deliberately kept the sneer off his face – and apparently that awful white polo was the only shirt the kid owned. Hanging over it was a thin black leather necklace with a discoloured silver cross dangling off it. The boy's hair was even longer than it had been in his headshot – Louis hoped he'd have influence over the hair and makeup team, because the kid needed a serious haircut.  
Despite all that, there was something appealing about the boy that Louis couldn't quite understand. He was quite pretty – and that meant a lot coming from Louis, who had met plenty of supermodels in his line of work. Creamy skin complemented the boy's brown curls perfectly. Green eyes, dark eyelashes - good eyebrows, too – and these lips that were so...  
Mon dieu. The kid was biting his lip, looking at Louis nervously. Had he been staring? He didn't mean to. It was just -  
Louis could feel a tugging at a part of him he thought had died. The kid was giving him that so- damn-beautiful-it-physically-pains-me sensation.  
Jetlag, Louis reasoned. I'm just tired and I'm already homesick and it's making me emotional. Still, if the kid discovered moisturiser and the gym, he could definitely own a page or two in  
Nylon Guys.  
Louis realised he'd have to be the one to break the silence. “Hi, I'm Louis,” he started, shaking the boy's hand and ignoring the way his stomach jumped at the physical contact. “I'll be dressing y– I mean, I'm head of wardrobe.”  
“Louis,” Harry said, pronouncing it right on the first time. At least someone here listened. “I'm Harry. Sorry, I'm so nervous, I've never been on TV or anything before.”  
“Harry.” Louis smiled encouragingly – trying to encourage himself just as much as the kid in front of him.  
“No, not 'Arry', Harry.” The boy broke out into a smile, lips curving, a ridiculous dimple on his cheek.  
“Harry,” Louis tried – after all, the kid had gotten his name right. “Hhhh, arry.” “There you go.” The kid winked. “What's with the accent?”  
“I'm French. I only came to America today.”  
The boy lit up at that. “Oh my g-” he cut himself off before completing the blasphemous phrase. “That's awesome! I've always wanted to travel, I thought I'd be going overseas this year but plans change, you know, but we'll be travelling the country, right! I'm sure it will be just as good. What's France like, what's your church like?”  
“France is...” Louis didn't really have a word to sum it up, his feelings about home were... complicated. “I don't go to church,” he finished.  
Harry looked at him, stunned. “What about when you were a kid, though?” “No, I've never been.”  
“Never?” Harry cried out in shock, as if Louis had just divulged that he'd never breathed air before. “Well, we'll be seeing lots of churches when we travel with this show! You'll go from having never been to church to having been to the best churches in America! God is so amazing, isn't he?” Harry's fingers clutched at the cross that hung from his neck.  
Louis had no idea what to say to that, especially not in English, so he busied himself in pulling out  
a measuring tape and iPad from his satchel.  
Harry giggled. “That's a girl's bag. Did you steal it from your girlfriend?”  
Louis could feel the headache creeping up. He was used to sixteen year olds: sixteen year old models who had seen the world and made enough money to financially support their parents. Sixteen year olds who wouldn't know a church if they were standing in front of it, but could direct you to a Louboutin stockist from any street in Paris. They'd probably drive you there in their own car, their lack of driver's licence irrelevant.  
Harry was a whole different brand of sixteen.  
“It's a men's bag,” Louis said snidely. “It cost more than a small car. And I don't have girlfriends. I have boyfriends.”  
Harry's eyes flew open wide. “Boyfr...” It seemed like he couldn't even finish the word. “Now I see why God brought you here! Except you better not tell anyone working on this show that you're a fag. Don't worry, I won't tell.”  
“What the hell did you just call me?” Louis threw his measuring tape at Harry, turning to leave the room. “Take your own damn measurements.”  
“But I don't know how-”  
“Ta gueule,” Louis hissed, spinning around to face Harry again. The kid probably didn't know what that meant, but he shut up all the same. “You don't say that word. Ever, you understand?”  
Harry looked confused, but nodded anyway. “I'm sorry.”  
Louis sighed, snatching the measuring tape back off Harry. He gestured impatiently, “Lève-toi. Stand up, take off your clothes.”  
Harry laughed, embarrassed.  
“I'm not joking. In your underwear, please, I've got to measure you. We can get one of your parents in here if that makes you more comfortable.”  
That seemed to hit a button. “I'm not a child!” Harry said hotly. “I'm sixteen, I don't need my parents.”  
Yes, you're sixteen, that's a child, Louis corrected him internally.  
Harry unbuttoned his jeans, avoiding Louis' eyes. “Okay, but I'm not gay, got it?”  
“You're not my type anyway,” Louis assured him coldly, which was true; Louis liked well-built, muscular Italian men with large hands and ominous eyes.  
Except... Harry kind of looked really nice standing there in his underwear, all pale and soft, hands covering his crotch. There was something attractive about his shyness. Italian models revealed themselves like a present – Look at me, I'm so perfect, aren't you lucky to get to watch someone like me get undressed? Harry, on the other hand, had no idea how appealing he was.  
Louis shook his head, trying to physically toss that thought out. Harry wasn't appealing, he was only sixteen. And a brat.  
Louis measured Harry's shoulders, arms, neck, typing the numbers into the iPad as he went. Then Harry's waist and chest.  
“Your hands are cold, it tickles.” Harry giggled when Louis brushed past his nice little rosebud nipples. “But no homo!” he added quickly.  
“No what?” Louis asked, incredulous.  
“No homo. You know, like... not... gay...” Harry trailed off under Louis' piercing gaze. “Ah. Should I not say that one either?”  
“No,” Louis said firmly.  
“I'm sorry,” Harry said, and Louis actually believed him. Harry seemed incredibly sheltered, but Louis didn't think he'd actually offend anyone deliberately.  
Louis bent down to his knees, checking Harry's shoe size, then the length of his legs. He did Harry's hip measurement next, entering the number into his iPad, then he glanced back up -  
Harry was hard.  
Not a little firm, but full-on hard.  
“Finished,” Louis said, although he wasn’t – he'd just made an educated guess as to what Harry's inseam was.  
Harry dressed quickly, blushing furiously. “It's not what you think!” he defended himself, fear in his voice. “It's just – hormones, you know, I'm saving myself – I'm a virgin okay, I'm not used to-”  
Thankfully, Jeremy came through the door then. “All done?”  
“All done,” Louis lied.  
“Great. You've got the next three days to buy a sample wardrobe for screen testing. Linda will give you the address of your hotel, and a company car will be brought to you in the morning.”  
Louis' headache was full-blown by now, and he couldn't handle the thought of navigating unfamiliar streets. “No. I'll shop in New York City. I only need two days there.”  
Jeremy looked at him, eyebrows raised – he didn't seem like a man who was often challenged.  
“I have a lot of connections in New York,” Louis reasoned. “I can get discounts on very good clothes. You'll save a lot of money.”  
That seemed to appeal. “All right, but you're the guardian for those two days, agreed?” Louis agreed, mostly because he didn't know that what that word meant.  
Linda the assistant had found a 5am flight to New York. Louis, having emptied the hotel minibar of alcohol, only got one hour's sleep before the phone by his bed rang, informing him a car was waiting to take him to the airport. Linda was already in the backseat, talking a mile a minute about where he'd be staying in the city and not to divulge any details of the show to anyone and make sure Harry got enough sleep-  
“Pardon – Harry?”  
“Yes, just make sure he gets enough sleep, you know what teenagers are like. He's never been to the city before, so just keep a close eye on him. Don't let him get lost.”  
“Harry's coming to New York?”  
“Wake up, Louis,” Linda said, still pronouncing the 's', waving her hand in front of his face. “You agreed to act as guardian for this little trip, remember?”  
Louis stared blankly. “Chaperone?” Linda tried.  
Oh, christ. Louis threw his head back in exasperation, hitting the headrest behind him. He knew that word, it was the same in French.  
Fucking babysitter.  
Sure enough, a bright-eyed Harry met them at the check-in desk. He had a whole lot of excitement for so early in the morning. “This is my first plane trip ever, and we get to fly first class! Can you believe it?”  
“First class? No way!” Louis cooed. Harry seemed to completely miss his sarcasm.  
“Harry Styles, your boarding pass.” The lady at the check-in desk passed the envelope over. “Louis Tomlinson, here's yours.”  
“It's Lou-ie, not Lou-is,” Harry interjected, correcting her. Maybe the kid had a few redeeming features.  
Louis ordered a whiskey before the plane had even taken off – half because he needed a drink, and half because it was just really fun to shock Harry, who asked with concern, “Are you an alcoholic?”  
“No. I'm just French,” Louis joked.  
Thankfully, Harry was quiet, sleeping for the rest of the three-and-a-half-hour flight.  
It was kind of really nice, the way he curled up against Louis in his sleep. Louis' face kept brushing against the top of Harry's curls as he turned to look out the small plane window.  
Harry smelled like laundry powder and soap and freshly baked bread, but it was ruined by some cheap body spray. Louis made a note on his iPad, buy Harry cologne, because he wasn't going on tour for four months with a boy who smelled like that.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bonjour, Mr Tomlinson!” tinkled a redhead, opening the door at the Dolce & Gabanna showrooms in New York. God, French in an American accent was the worst. “Ça me fait plaisir vous de revoir!” she butchered.  
“De vous,” Louis corrected gently. “It's good to see you too. This is Harry.” The redhead cast her eyes down at Harry's grubby department store sneakers.  
“As you can see, he needs your help.” Louis handed over his half-page wardrobe guideline. This is why people liked working with him: he knew exactly what he wanted and didn't waste any time. Of course, Jeremy had given Louis a guideline of his own; words like modest and appropriate leapt off the page before Louis had scrunched it up and tossed it into a bin.  
“I'll be back in two hours.” Louis looked at the girl, agreement unspoken: This kid is your problem for now.  
“You're going?” Harry asked, alarmed. “But-”  
“The girls here will take care of you. I'm meeting a friend, I won't be long.” And Louis left before Harry could speak again, looking forward to catching up with Joni face-to-face.  
\-----  
“You look so fucking HOT!” the salesgirl had squealed at Harry as he exited the dressing room for the millionth time. He blushed furiously, wishing she wouldn't swear. When was Louis going to get back?  
\-----  
“Can we get something to eat?” Harry asked Louis as they stepped out onto the street, Harry looking much nicer in a new outfit.  
Louis had taken great delight in instructing one of the D&G girls to throw Harry's awful white polo out with the trash.

“I'm so hungry, Louis.”  
Merde. Louis had enjoyed lunch with Joni, forgetting that the boy needed to eat too. “Sure, where do you want to go?”  
“Times Square?!”  
Louis looked at Harry's face, which was lit up just as bright as Times Square would be that night. Louis sighed, Tourists!, and hailed a cab to take them to the Hard Rock Cafe. May as well be as cliché as possible, get it out of the boy's system.  
Harry's jaw dropped open mid-chew, a chunk of masticated burger dropping back out. “Louis! You're on TV.” He pointed to the screen across the restaurant.  
Louis heard the commentary before he turned, seeing grainy paparazzi shots of his lunch that day scrolling past on E! News. “Indie filmmaker Joni Swan was spotted in New York City earlier today, in talks with fashion heavyweight Louis Tomlinson. Sources tell us that a Devil Wears Prada-style film is in the works."  
“That's so cool!” Harry crowed at the same time Louis muttered, “C'est pas bon.” Harry looked at him, confused, and Louis clarified. “Not good, Harry. Not cool. Your show hasn't been publicised yet, and now the media know I'm here in America.”  
Harry still got out his phone to snap a photo of the TV screen. “Are you like, proper famous in France?” he asked, tucking back into his meal.  
“No,” Louis laughed. “My friend who I met up with today, she is a bit famous. It must be a slow news day, either way.”  
\-----  
Louis might have been lying about his level of fame though, because a few men with cameras were waiting outside the Hard Rock Cafe. Harry watched Louis pull away from him, apparently on autopilot: eyes down and walking with purpose. Harry tried to follow but he couldn't push through this octopus of arms waving cameras about, bright flashes leaving spots in his vision.  
“Louis, wait!” he cried out desperately, barely audible over the photographers yelling.  
“What's the new movie about, Louis?” “Hey kid, did Joni Swan cast you? Are you playing the  
role of Louis Tomlinson?” “What's your name, kid?”  
Harry remembered his manners and tried to smile. “I'm Har-” he started, but one of the men stepped right in front of him while he was speaking and his ankles got tangled, making him fall flat on his face mid-sentence.  
Almost immediately, strong hands were on his arm, pulling him up. The welcome sound of Louis' French accent hit his ears. “Don't say anything to them, okay. Keep your 'ead down.”  
The click of the cameras had doubled in frequency now that they were standing next to each other. Harry felt Louis' hand wrap firmly around his, pulling him ahead and into a waiting cab. Louis barked an address at the driver, and they'd driven off before Harry had time to shut the side door.  
Harry caught his breath for a minute, then suddenly realised he was still holding onto Louis' hand. Tight. He dropped it immediately.  
“What the hell was tha-” he clamped a hand over his own mouth, immediately feeling guilty about swearing. “I'm sorry – what was that?”  
“You can say 'hell', 'Arry,” Louis assured him, although he made it sound more like 'ell', and maybe that way was okay. “The friend I met today, she works in film. I guess they think I'm making a movie with her – now they think you are too. I didn't think it through, that we might be seen together, I'm sorry. We'll go back to the hotel now and call Jeremy. At least I got you into some Dolce before they found us,” Louis chuckled, reaching over to smooth out Harry's shirt collar.  
The hotel was amazing. The room itself was even better. There was a double bed each – Harry had only ever slept in a single before. He tested one out, giving it a good few bounces before ricocheting off to peer out the window. It was incredible.  
“Look at the view!” He beckoned, but Louis was already on the phone to Jeremy.  
\-----  
Lucky for Louis, Jeremy didn't seem to mind – media attention would generate a good amount of interest in their show, especially if Joni could hold off on making a comment about her (lack of) involvement for the time being. “Don't let on about the specifics just yet, maybe drop that it's television, not film. And take Harry out tonight,” Jeremy directed. “I'm sure you know where to go to get spotted.”  
Louis hung up the phone and pulled out his iPad, patting the bed in front of him. “Come here, Harry.” Harry instantly did as he was told. “You have Facebook, right?”  
“Duh,” Harry said, flicking through Louis' apps. “What's grindr?”  
“Nothing!” Louis said quickly, swatting away Harry's hand before he could open the app. “Listen, you've got to go on your Facebook. Change your name and your profile picture on there, and delete anyone you don't fully trust. Delete all the incriminating pictures too, all right?”  
“Incriminating pictures? Like, all the pictures of me?”  
“No, I mean just the ones that you don't want the public to see, just in case someone finds your profile. You know, drinking, smoking joints-” but it dawned on Louis mid-sentence; “You don't have any incriminating pictures, do you?”  
“I don't smoke!” Harry said, indignant. “And I've never even had alcohol, besides at communion.” Louis was relieved to see Harry was changing his privacy settings without a fight.  
“Have you ever done that?” Harry asked, not quite casually. “Smoked marijuana?”  
Louis nodded, expecting strong judgement, but Harry looked almost... impressed.  
“What else have you done?” Harry leant forward eagerly.  
“Like what other drugs?” Louis asked, tapping on the iPad to focus Harry's attention back to the task at hand.  
“No, - wow, tell me that too - but I meant other stuff. Stuff stuff.” Louis didn't know that term, 'stuff stuff'.  
“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Harry pressed.  
“Yes.”  
“Have you ever kissed a boy?” Harry asked, eyes wide.  
“Yes.” Louis sighed, exasperated, bracing himself for whatever unwittingly homophobic thing  
Harry came out with next.  
Except all Harry said was, “What was it like?”  
What kind of question was that? Louis had experienced awful kisses and great kisses. Sloppy drunk kisses, I-can't-believe-I'm-kissing-you kisses, hello kisses, goodbye kisses, and – Louis' personal favourite – let-me-pass-you-your-own-come-back-into-your-mouth kisses. Harry would probably spontaneously combust at that, though. “It's just a bit rougher than kissing a girl, really.” Louis shrugged.  
“What's that like?” Harry's nostrils flared in embarrassment.  
“You've never kissed anyone?” Louis clarified. “But you're sixteen!” “Had you kissed someone when you were sixteen, Louis?” Harry asked.  
“I'd done more than that.” But Louis done with the interrogation. “I want you to take a nap, Harry.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Louis didn't give him a chance. “Jeremy wants me to try to get you photographed again, so we're going out late tonight.”  
“Past midnight?” Harry seemed delighted.  
“Kid. This is New York. We won't leave the hotel before midnight. So you need to sleep now.”  
“Don't call me 'kid'.” Harry didn't get off Louis' bed though – he just lay himself down where he was, pulling the covers over himself. Okay, then.  
“Don't leave the room, okay ki- Harry.” Louis instructed him firmly. “I need to go out to get you more clothes. I'm going to send a hairdresser to the room to cut your hair,” he decided on the spot, “I'll make sure hotel staff don't let anyone else come to the door.”  
“Oh, don't go!” Harry said, face already turned into the pillow. “Aren't you going to sleep too?”  
Of course he wasn't. Like he'd said, this was New York City. Decent drugs were dirt cheap, and Louis would need a good kick to get through a night out with Harry at his heels. “I have work to do, Harry.”  
“Don't take too long.”  
\-----  
“I don't really like it here.” Harry said, fighting against the music. Louis gave him an odd gesture – he really was very French. Harry spoke louder: “I don't like it here, can we leave?” But Louis couldn't hear him.  
They'd been at the club for over an hour. Harry hadn't been anywhere after midnight before, let alone a nightclub. It hadn't taken long before some tall women had come over, practically shrieking “Lou-ieeee! We didn't know you were in the city!” Harry observed a round of double- kisses, and then they all turned on him. Both his cheeks were sticky with lip gloss by the time they were done greeting him.  
A photographer with media ID had taken a few shots of the group. He'd eyed the girls' legs, then turned to Harry and said in an oily voice, “You're living the dream, kid.”  
Harry wished people would stop calling him 'kid'. Louis had introduced Harry to the girls as “Curly”, murmuring in his ear, “Don't want the media to know your name yet – and you can never trust a model.”  
Models – that's what these girls were. They made Harry sick, leaning over him and shoving their breasts in his face, clamping their thin hands down on his thighs as they talked to him, drinking shot after shot of alcohol and never tiring of dancing – if you could call it that, they were practically acting out sex right there in public.  
Harry hated it. The music was up way too loud and it had a lot of rude words in it. Something was up with Louis too, his eyes were shining just a little too bright and he was talking faster than usual, but he was the only familiarity Harry had.  
No, that's not true, Harry realised, feeling a small sense of calm wash over him immediately. God's always here. He bent his head down, eyes shut, praying out loud because no one would hear him over the music anyway. He opened up completely, about how scared he was here in New York City and how he'd thought really mean things about those photographers and he was sorry for that because he should have been forgiving, he should have used the opportunity to tell them about God, and he shouldn't be so ungrateful because this TV show was God's plan for him but it was really overwhelming and he kind of wished he was just on mission like planned, hidden away at a tiny village in a foreign country – Harry hadn't realised he was crying until Louis' hands  
were suddenly cradling his cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears.  
'Arry, 'Arry! he saw Louis' lips mouth. He couldn't hear him though, the music was so loud, it just made him cry even harder.  
Louis pulled out his phone, typing quickly and shining the bright screen at Harry, who squinted to read: Taking you out of here. I need you to stop crying ok.  
Harry nodded, gasping for air. Louis deftly pulled a pair of sunglasses out of a nearby woman's handbag. Harry really hoped that he knew her, because he seriously could not deal with being a witness to stealing right now. Louis handed them to Harry, miming at him to put them on. It was embarrassing, they were women's sunglasses – but Louis was a fashion guy, right? Maybe they'd look okay.  
Louis lead him out of the club. Harry was looking forward to the refuge of a cab, but they kept moving, out along the street and then down a small alleyway.  
\-----  
Kito was Louis' favourite bar in the city. A modest-sized gay bar, it was never too crowded. It had been good for at least five years though, and it was probably on it's way out. Still, it was the first place he thought to hide Harry away in.  
Crying sixteen year olds weren't exactly Louis' speciality. He didn't really know how to deal with Harry, but he was pretty sure the bartender would turn a blind eye at one for courage.  
He did too, raising his eyebrows at Louis' order of lemonade and vodka. He glanced over to Harry, who was standing next to Louis, still sniffling.  
“Right, lemonade for you.” But he poured it anyway.  
Louis pulled out his wallet to pay for the drink.  
“Oh, here.” Suddenly Harry's fingers, soft and kind of big for a sixteen year old, were on Louis' hands, slipping into the wallet Louis held. Louis was fine with American money, he'd visited at least once a year for most of his adult life, but for some reason he didn't explain that to Harry. He just let the boy pull out a $5 bill out, fingers brushing against fingers.  
“That's not for me!” Harry shook his head when Louis handed the glass to him. “It will make you feel better. It's just one drink... same as communion, non?”  
Harry stared at the glass, tracing a pattern into the condensation. He spoke slowly. “I've always wanted to try alcohol. But it's wrong, isn't it?”  
“One drink isn't anything to feel bad about, Harry. People drink wine in the bible, don't they?”  
Harry nodded at that, and then after a moment he asked cheerily, “Can I get wine instead?” “You won't like it.” Louis laughed.  
The drink left Harry quite giggly. He babbled about nothing for a good fifteen minutes, finally trailing off to stare at the corner of the bar. His gaze was so intent that Louis followed it. Two young men were curled up on one of the couches, kissing. Louis decided he may as well let Harry look, the couple didn't seem to notice anything but each other.  
Louis turned back to Harry, choking on his own saliva in surprise. He quickly whipped of his jacket and shoved it into Harry's lap. “Harry! Maybe stop looking now.”  
Harry doubled over, hiding his erection. Harry had appeared to be surprisingly big and Louis had almost enjoyed the split-second sight - which was kind of wrong.  
Louis rationalised that it was just because it was D&G denim, anyone's hard dick would look nice in those. He gave Harry a moment's grace, turning to ask the bartender for a glass of wine. The bartender pulled out a bottle and Louis clarified; “No, not from California, French wine please.”  
Louis took a small sip, letting the taste of home wash over his tongue.  
“Can I ask you something?” Harry said after a moment, gratefully passing Louis' jacket back to him.  
There was a tone of nervousness in his voice, so Louis politely fixed his gaze at the liquor rack across from them instead of looking back at the boy. “Sure.”  
“What just happened... why didn't it happen when we were with all those models, dancing and stuff? Is there something wrong with me?”  
“It's not wrong to like men.”  
“I do not like men! I like girls! I'm normal. I mean – not that you're not normal, well you're kind of weird, but I think it's the French thing, not the gay thing. You're not a freak, I thought gay people were all freaks but you're-” Harry paused his blathering to sigh. “Help me out here.”  
“I think you're beyond my help. Who teaches you these things?” Louis reached for his wine glass, but it was empty. One look at Harry confirmed the worst: his cheeks were flushed and he was even swaying a little.  
“Harry!” Louis scolded him. “Don't drink my wine!”  
“Sorry. But I really need to pee,” Harry told him in a stage-whisper.  
Louis had to practically carry him into the bathroom. Harry definitely hadn't been lying about never drinking before, his tolerance was low.  
Louis splashed cold water on his face while Harry did his business, praying the kid didn't pee on his new jeans.  
“Hey, Louis, look,” Harry called out dreamily, leaning down. “There's a hole in the wall. I can see  
“Hey, Louis, look,” Harry called out dreamily, leaning down. “There's a hole in the wall. I can see  
through it, that's so funny! Hey Louis I think s-”  
In one movement, Louis pulled Harry up and pushed him back. “Whoops!” Harry giggled. Louis kept Harry pressed against the wall, listening for movement behind the wall.  
All clear.  
Their faces were inches away from each other. The smile faded off Harry's mouth and an intensity took over his eyes, starting straight at Louis. Into Louis.  
Louis wanted to push harder, press his whole body up against Harry and shove his fingers into that mouth and teach the brunet a thing or two about gay freaks-  
No, fuck, that was wrong. Really wrong. Harry was only sixteen - it was just the wine-stained lips and the nice clothes and the dim lighting making Harry look four years older than he really was, that was confusing Louis.  
“We're leaving.” Louis turned and exited the bathroom. Harry could stumble through the bar at his own pace, Louis would deal with him out on the street.  
\-----  
Harry's eyes opened, the hotel room around him still quite dark. Brain slowly waking up, he became aware that one of his hands was in his underpants, fist closed around his morning wood. He pulled back quickly, whispering “Sorry, God,” like he had to most mornings – but he did really mean it, he was sorry, it wasn't a sin if you just did it in your sleep, right?  
Louis was still fast asleep in the bed across from him, so Harry was free to walk over to the minibar. He drank a whole bottle of water, and then another, hoping that Louis would wake up soon because Harry was hungry. He watched the sun rise outside the window, taxi cabs already zipping around like flies on the streets beneath him. Louis' phone started buzzing on the small table beside his bed, but he didn't stir.  
Harry came over, gently shaking his shoulder. “Louis, wake up, your phone's ringing.” “Laisse-moi tranquille,” Louis mumbled, eyes shut.  
Harry could see the contact showing up on the screen: Jeremy Wash, Producer. He shook Louis harder.  
“Laisse-moi, Laisse-” Louis opened his eyes, looked at Harry, and let out a loud groan. “Leave me be, 'Arry!” he translated.  
“It's Jeremy on the phone,” Harry explained, even though the ringing had stopped.  
Louis rolled over, facing Harry. He reached for the hotel phone, but it wasn't Jeremy he called.  
“Room service, please. Very strong black coffee. And...” he looked at Harry. “Toast?” Harry ventured.  
“Toast.” Louis repeated into the phone. “And?” he asked again.  
“... Eggs?”  
“Eggs, and...” Louis gave Harry one of his odd hand gestures.  
Well. He was sixteen years old and in the big apple, right? Harry reached for the phone. “Bacon, please. And hash browns. Some sausage. Ooh, pancakes! And icecream. And-”  
“Okay, that's enough.” Louis laughed, taking the phone back. “Merci.”  
Having Louis' sleepy eyes on him made Harry feel self-conscious. He went to run his fingers through his hair – but that's right, it had been cut yesterday.  
\-----  
“Can we make a blanket fort?” Harry asked – was he always so chipper in the mornings? “A what?” Louis asked.  
“No, seriously – I was thinking about it before you woke up. If we prop both mattresses up against the beds, and drape the sheets over, hold that end up with the little armchair, then put all the pillows and duvets inside... it'd be mad!”  
It was really immature, Harry being so enchanted by a simple hotel room – they weren't even  
above the 20th floor. Had the teen never even left Texas before? It only became more embarrassing when Louis had to answer the door to collect their breakfast, the staff raising their eyes in amusement at the oversize cotton monument behind him.  
Louis turned around carefully, balancing a heavy tray in his arms.  
“I'll eat inside my castle, please.” Harry gestured at the fort he'd made.  
Of course Harry had used the last spare sheet to adorn himself in a makeshift toga. Of course.  
It was really immature, eating breakfast inside a blanket fort. Harry kept trying to flick bits of toast  
at Louis. Louis huffed, tried to drink his coffee, but a piece hit his nose and dropped into his cup with a small splash.  
He didn't want to laugh, because it was really, really immature. Harry wasn't funny, he was dumb, and Louis didn't want to encourage it – but he did laugh, fishing ice cubes out of Harry's juice and dropping them down his toga – Harry's shriek only made him laugh harder.  
The stuck-up, done-it seen-it too-good-for-it, uptight world of Paris' fashion industry felt a million miles away.  
The unwelcome ring of Louis' phone interrupted their laughter. Jeremy, again. Louis ducked his head to exit the fort, forgetting that bedsheets weren't soundproof anyway.  
“Louiss!” Jeremy's voice blared out.  
“Lou-ie,” corrected Louis, but he guessed it was futile.  
“We've got a problem, I've emailed you, read it now.” Jeremy hung up without a goodbye.  
Louis opened the email on his iPad, clicking the links Jeremy had sent through.  
Out magazine had tweeted, Louis Tomlinson spotted in NYC yesterday! Rumour has it our  
celebrated LGBT icon is making a 2014 take on 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy'.  
Which wasn't too bad, but Perez Hilton hadn't been so polite: FRENCH FASHIONISTA LEWIS TOMLINSON SPOTTED AT CLOVER NYC LAST NIGHT WITH UNKNOWN UNDERAGE TWINK – WHAT'S THE VERDICT MONSIEUR, THINK THE BOY NEEDS A PEARL NECKLACE?  
“Why do they think I'd wear a necklace?” Louis hadn't realised Harry had emerged from the blanket fort too and was reading over his shoulder.  
“I was not put on this earth to explain glory holes and pearl necklaces to you.” Louis sighed. “Wait, what's a glory hole?”  
Merde. “Nothing, never mind.”  
There was a paragraph in which Jeremy had written, having an out homosexual man working on a Christian show is not conducive to- Louis didn't bother to finish that bit, just kept scrolling. Jeremy had also sent Louis the address of a Christian bookshop in the city, where he and Harry had to go for a casual shop at 2.15pm. Use the company card, buy some books.  
Louis was absolutely certain that by bizarre coincidence, a small army of paparazzi might just be waiting outside the bookshop. Jeremy's closing statement was Don't let Harry be seen anywhere else.  
Louis wished he hadn't taken anything last night because dealing with all that along with a comedown was a bit too much for his tired brain, jetlag well and truly in effect.  
“I have to go to a few more showrooms, and then make sure all your clothes have all been sent to  
“I have to go to a few more showrooms, and then make sure all your clothes have all been sent to  
Texas. Jeremy says you have to wait here, Harry, but you'd be bored with shopping anyway.”  
Harry looked crestfallen, so Louis passed his iPad over to him. “Here, you can go on this. And order any room service you want, I'll be back after lunch.”  
Louis really thought Harry could really do with going down to the hotel gym and lifting some weights, but there wasn't really a nice way to phrase that. “I'll be back in a couple of hours, be ready to go out.”  
\-----  
Harry sat on his hotel bed (now back in its normal position), still in his sheet-toga, tongue stuck out in concentration as he typed into Google, “pearl necklace”. It seemed pretty self explanatory... until he saw Wikipedia had a link: Pearl necklace, sexual act. Yikes, he definitely wouldn't click that.  
He went back to Google, and tried “twink”. Twink is a gay slang term describing a young or young-looking man with a slender, ectomorph build, little or no body hair. Oh goodness, that was bad, that was really bad, what if someone from church saw that blog calling him a twink?  
“I have body hair,” he assured himself. He tried to remember that other thing Louis had said... glory hole?  
A hole located in a partition in which one's penis is inserted - “Oh my gosh!” Harry gasped, pushing the iPad away. He fought with himself for a minute, giving in to the urge and picking the iPad back up again – something in the Google search had caught his eye.  
A video thumbnail, of a (thankfully empty) glory hole, titled 'GLORYHOLE BLOWJOB AND FACIAL'. Harry might save googling “facial” for another day - he hoped what his mum got at the salon was not the same as whatever would be in that video - but the word "blowjob" was kind of alluring.  
He opened the website that the video had come from, and searched “nice blowjob”. The girls in the thumbnails reminded him of the girls he'd seen the club the night before, and it was depressing.  
It also wasn't quite what he had in mind.  
“Boyfriend blowjob”, Harry typed in, heart pounding. The screen loaded, thumbnails displaying pairs of men.  
It wasn't gay. He just wanted to see what a blowjob was like.  
He opened the first one, but immediately the man in it was heard moaning, “Oh my God, oh my God,” and Harry thought it was extra-wrong to look at porn and take the Lord's name in vain all at once.  
Not that he was looking at porn. He was just trying to find out what a blowjob was like. He'd never actually get one before he was married, that was a sin - especially from another boy. It was  
okay to just look though, and a different video in the sidebar had caught his eye: 'Amateur backstage blowjob'.  
The camera was steady, probably propped up on something. It wasn't great quality but it wasn't bad.  
You could see two men from the waist-down, standing in front of a black curtain. There was a small gap in the curtain a bit to the side of them, you could see people walking past and even a girl getting makeup put on her. This couldn't be the type of video Harry was looking for, no one would do a blowjob where they could get caught!  
It was if the men in the video had heard Harry's thought and called his bluff. One of them dropped to his knees in front of the other, unbuckling the belt in front of him. Harry just pretended it was a girl with short hair.  
The standing man pulled his pants and underpants down just far enough to reveal his penis. Harry closed his eyes for a second, but his curiosity got to the better of him. He opened them again, and the camera had zoomed in – there must be a remote, surely there wasn't a third person watching them from behind the camera. The kneeling man had his hands on the other man's penis, his mouth sucking on the end of it.  
Harry felt his own penis getting hard, but he was pretty good at ignoring that by this stage of his life.  
The camera zoomed in even closer when the man – no, it's a girl, think it's a girl, Harry reminded himself - started sucking on more of the penis. How on earth did he fit all that inside his mouth? Harry looked down at himself, trying to picture his own penis behind the sheet – could someone fit all of him in their mouth?  
The standing man's hands clutched at the other one's face, pulling their mouth further down his penis. Harry could see a small tattoo on his hand, two interlocking C's that looked oddly familiar, but that thought was immediately forgotten when he heard moans and gasps coming from the man who's penis was being sucked.  
The man was speaking in a different language. He sounded kind of like Louis, so it must be French – yes, Harry recognised the word “Oui”.  
And the man kept saying it, “Oui, oui,” spitting it out between gasps and moans.  
Harry's penis felt... different to what he'd felt ever before. He pulled back the bedsheet he was still wearing, and had a peek. Wow. He didn't know he could get that big.  
It wasn't a gay thing. He'd just never seen porn before.  
Harry tentatively wrapped a hand around himself – he wasn't masturbating exactly, he was just trying to imagine what a blowjob felt like. He definitely wasn't going to imagine to gay porn though, so he closed his eyes.  
He stroked himself tight and fast, not having the self-control to start off slowly. He let out a moan, but then bit on his own lip to silence himself, because that man talking in French was kind of hot.  
It wasn't gay. Everyone knows French is the language of love, that's all it was.  
Harry writhed about the bed, losing all control but keeping his eyes shut tight, his thighs tensed up  
and an urgency spread all throughout his whole body. He pulled the sheet right off, needing air on his skin because he had fast become sweaty and hot.  
The man in the video was getting louder. Harry was glad he didn't understand French because the man might be swearing. He just jerked himself furiously and suddenly they were coming together, moaning in unison, him and this video stranger, Harry getting hot come all over his hand and himself and the hotel bedsheets.  
“Baby, you're so good,” the man in the video spoke, breaking Harry out of his daze. Even in English, his voice sounded familiar. Harry snapped his eyes open.  
The camera had panned up, and it was focused on the French man's face. He was five or ten years younger, but unmistakable. It was Louis.  
Harry's sticky hand shot out, killing the iPad screen, his stomach lurching. He didn't have time to react any further though, because Louis was coming in through the hotel door. Harry lunged for the bedsheet, covering himself up, still catching his breath.  
Louis looked at Harry, exasperated, “Honestly? You've had three hours to get dressed.” His voice was killing Harry's ears, all too familiar now.  
“I – uh – I thought I'd wait for you to pick out an outfit for me.” But Harry knew he wasn't great at lying. He pulled the sheet around him closer. Luckily, Louis was already rummaging through the small stockpile of new clothes that they hadn't already sent back home.  
Harry just sat there, feeling shame wash over him in waves. Louis passed him pants and a t-shirt, his hand right in Harry's face.  
Harry suddenly realised. “That tattoo.”  
“Oh, yes.” Louis laughed, a little embarrassed. “Chanel, you know it? I was very young –  
fourteen, maybe? I thought it was cool.”  
Harry took the clothes and hesitated, not wanting to reveal his stomach and more, smeared with come.  
“Ooh, sorry!” Louis headed for the bathroom. “I'll leave you to get changed.”  
With Louis in the bathroom, Harry couldn't get washed. He wiped himself down with the bedsheets as best as he could and got dressed. His skin felt a little tight where the cum had dried, this tugging reminder of sin.


	3. Chapter 3

Sure enough, Louis could see from inside the cab that there were paparazzi waiting outside the Christian bookshop. Louis suspected they hadn't been so much tipped off as flat-out paid to be there. He turned to Harry to explain that, but Harry had headphones in and his eyes fixed on his phone, playing some game. Harry was acting strange – actually, Harry was acting normal for once, like the sixteen year olds Louis was used to working with: aloof and not quite present. But he didn't seem to be acting like Harry. Then again, Louis had only known him for three days. They exited the cab. Louis pulled Harry's headphones out. He didn't react. They stood for a minute in front of the photographers. Louis went to put an arm around the smaller boy, but at the last minute he pulled back again, just clasping his hands in front of himself instead. That line from the producer's email had flashed through his mind; _having an out homosexual man working on a Christian show is not conducive to_ \- Louis probably should read the rest of that email properly. He'd do it on the plane home. He couldn't help but smirk when he walked into the shop, feeling a small victory over Jeremy. Sure, they had to make this awful staged appearance at a Christian bookshop, but they weren't in Texas any more, and it wasn't surprising to see displayed on the shop's glass door was a small rainbow sticker, that telltale gay-friendly sign. Louis did see a small 'Gay & Lesbian' section inside, but the paps were still shooting them from the street – Jeremy must be paying them well. He approached one of the salesgirls instead, quietly asking her if she could pick out a few good titles for teens from that section. Harry was happily flicking through the music section. Louis approached him, but the boy was deep in concentration. Louis swayed just slightly to the side, giving Harry a small nudge. Harry yelped, looking up at Louis with – what was that in his eyes? He spun around and walked off to a different section, and Louis was sure he heard him say, “Sorry, I can't-”.

\-----

They would be leaving New York tomorrow. The trip had gone way too fast. Harry still thanked God for the opportunity, remembering that he'd be back here to film a few episodes of the TV show in no time. Louis had gone out again after they got back from the bookshop. He apologised to Harry, saying Jeremy's rule that he couldn't be seen anywhere but the bookshop was stupid. Harry was glad though, to have an excuse to not be around Louis. He said goodbye before Louis had even tied up his shoelaces. Harry sat on his bed – luckily a maid had come when they were at the bookshop, and he didn't have to face the shame of seeing his bedsheets with the small crusty splatter he'd left on them. He cast his eyes over to the books that Louis had bought him. The one at the top of the pile was titled _The Greatest of These Is Love_. The blurb on the back said it was a true story about a Christian minister, a woman, who had to hide her true self while leading a small-town church. She found the courage to move to San Francisco, where she started her own congregation and met her wife. _God Loves All His Children_ seemed a bit less heavy, _Quotes and inspiration for LGBT teens_. Harry picked up the hotel phone, deciding heavy thinking definitely required food. “Can I get room service, please? A burger and fries, please?” “Yes sir, we can bring that up to you in about ten minutes.” “And a cup of red wine,” escaped his mouth. It was the same as communion, right, just in a slightly bigger size? He liked the way it made him feel. “A glass of wine?” Glass. Right. “Yes please. Thank you, God bless.” “Er – you too, sir.” When Harry answered the door he called out over his shoulder, “Wine's here!” It wasn't a lie exactly, the wine really was there. If the room service guy thought that Harry was telling an adult that wine for them was there, well, that was his assumption. Harry sipped the wine. It tasted familiar but also a lot nicer than communion wine. He flicked through a few of the books Louis had bought him. It didn't make sense, with what Harry had been taught before. Except the more he thought about it... what he'd been taught before, that was what didn't make sense. He'd never fully understood it – he knew you shouldn't judge anyone, only God can judge someone, and that God loves everyone. He knew that you should love everyone too and just help out anyone who needs help, no matter who they are, because in serving people you serve God. It didn't fit in with those ideas then, that the homeless shelter his church ran wouldn't house gay couples. It didn't make sense that the sermons he'd heard on love stressed the importance of love between a man and a woman, declaring that love between a man and a woman was the only type of pure and good love. These books made it seem a lot more simple: don't judge, help anyone you can, and love is good – any type of love. You love whomever you love, all love is equal. He'd been taught that fags – no, he wasn't supposed to say that - _gay people_ could be kind of sneaky and try to trick you... but these were books from a shop that his Pastor's friend told them to go to. He was sure he could trust them. And they all referenced bible verses. They all just all made a whole lot of sense. Not that it really mattered – Harry liked girls, so none of this would really effect _him_. He kind of wished there had been a book on masturbation too. Because he'd done that, hadn't he? Sort of. But maybe it was okay. It had felt nice... Harry felt a familiar sensation, triggered by his recollection, and instinctively punched himself firmly in the gut. No. He had finished his burger and wine and that wine-feeling settled into his head and his belly, telling him, _Go outside, Harry! You're in the big apple! Go outside!_ And that was a brilliant idea. The sun was just starting to set so he rifled through his new clothes, pulling out a jacket and scarf and a pair of boots. Outside the hotel, there was just two photographers – were they waiting for _him_ or were there actual celebrities staying at the hotel? _Gosh_ , yes; one of them yanked the other's arm, “I think that's him, right?” Harry pulled his scarf up over his face, but they clicked their cameras at him anyway. He made off down the street, but after only a few paces stopped in front of a pretzel stand. He ordered two pretzels and two coffees and doubled back, giving the food and drink to the two photographers. They stared at him in surprise, thanked him, and asked, “So... who are you? An actor, right? Or an heir to something? Let's get a better picture of you.” “You can't,” Harry laughed, and it was true – they each had a coffee in one hand and a pretzel in the other. He ran off down the street, not stopping for three blocks. If they had tried to follow him, he'd lost them.

\-----

Louis returned the the hotel, content that Harry had a full wardrobe for at least the background- story filming in Texas, probably the first couple weeks of tour as well. Louis made to take off his shoes, but decided to keep them on, actually. He'd given himself a little treat on the production company's credit card, Louis Vuitton calf leather shoes with this to-die-for embossed patent buckle-over. God, they were so _pretty_ , he could cry. It was so nice to wear shoes in his size for once, and his toes felt very free without any socks on. He pulled out his new LV wallet, matching his shoes in that same embossed patent leather – yes, he was definitely emotional. He didn't care what people said about LV being passé, what did they know? Louis Vuitton was classic. Well, maybe he had a soft spot for the shared name too. He looked up to ask Harry about ordering dinner – maybe he could go out and get something better than room service, maybe they'd even rebuild the blanket fort and eat inside it again, but Harry wasn't in the room. Or the bathroom. Louis called reception, getting put through to the gym and the pool and even the salon – no one had seen Harry. “Do you have a chapel here? A prayer room?” he asked desperately. “No, sir.” “Merci,” he said, hanging the phone up and immediately calling Harry's cell. He let out a sigh of relief when Harry answered. “Where are you?” Louis asked, hoping the teen hadn't gotten too far. “Central Park!” Harry simply replied. “ _T'es con_ , you're an _idiot_ , Harry! You're not allowed to leave the hotel! What if photographers saw you, Jeremy wouldn't like it.” “They did.” Harry sounded quite smug. “I hid behind my scarf, and then I shoved hot food in their hands so they couldn't use their cameras.” Louis paused. That... was very clever, actually. “What can you see?” “Trees.... some people...” “ _Harry,_ ” Louis started, but the boy's gleeful laughter interrupted him. Ah, it was a joke. “I'm near a fountain,” Harry went on, “there's an angel on top of it. It's huge, you can't miss it.” “Yes, I know it – stay there. Don't move.” Louis took the subway, figuring it would be a bit quicker than a cab. He emerged from the station, pulling out sunglasses ready for the bright sky; but the sun had fully set when he emerged, the last traces of the sunset leaving the sky. It didn't take him long to find Harry, lying flat on the ground with his head propped up against the side of the fountain. A sheepish grin crossed his face as he stood up, and- “Wait,” Louis said, taking two steps back and assessing Harry from head to toe. He was wearing the navy jeans and white t-shirt Louis had put him in for their bookstore appearance, but he'd added a charcoal Armani blazer which he'd dressed-down by pushing the sleeves up to his elbows. A navy McQueen scarf with a red pattern on it was loosely wrapped around his neck, which matched perfectly with the mahogany-red leather boots he'd put on. A misplaced look of terror was on Harry's face though. He stammered, “I – I don't know – it was an accident. I'm not-” “What? Slow down, I was just looking at your outfit.” “My outfit?” Harry repeated, relief appearing to wash over him. “Yes,” Louis said slowly, not really understanding the boy's emotional process. Probably teenage hormones, as they say. “Did you pick it out yourself? It's very nice.” Harry nodded, surprised but also pleased. “Come on, we'll go get dinner.” Harry followed. “You got to the fountain pretty quickly.” “Yes, we did an editorial there a couple years ago, when feathered jewellery was trying to make a comeback. They thought it matched the statue's wings, you know? I thought it was cliché, personally.” Harry seemed interested though, so Louis guided him on a gratuitously longer path through the park, pointing out landmarks every now and then. “I styled a fashion week promo that we shot under that archway,” “Balenciaga once had an outdoor show there, the decoration was amazing, it looked like a fairy garden,” “See that big oak, we once had a model up there and she got stuck! I had to climb up myself to help her out.” “You've been to New York City a lot then, for work?” Harry asked. “Yes.” “But never for fun.” “What?” Harry stopped walking, catching Louis' elbow to stop him too, but letting go of him just as fast. “You said you climbed up that tree to get a model out?” “Yes...” “Have you ever climbed a tree for _fun_?” Harry emphasised. Of course he hadn't, but fifteen minutes later Louis was doing just that - his brand new shoes thoroughly scuffed, but he was halfway up the oak. Harry was even higher, calling out instructions: “See that branch to your left, you should be able to get your left foot on it – there you go, now pull up-” When Louis got close to him, Harry reached out to grab his hand and help him up. Harry's eyes landed on Louis' Chanel tattoo and he made a face – Louis gave a sigh of resignation; apparently even sheltered Texas boys could tell how tacky it was. Finally Louis settled at the top of the tree with Harry, a branch digging into his ass (not quite in a bad way) and an incredible view of the park peeking through the leaves. “This is really nice, Harry.” Louis commented, surprised. “The first time I came to the city was for work, and every single time after that has been for work. I've never stopped just to look. You have such a nice perspective on things, I really admire it – don't lose it, okay? You're a nice boy.” The compliment seemed to make Harry uncomfortable though. He just made a face and started climbing back down the tree.

\-----

They had to wake up early that morning. Jeremy's assistant Linda seemed to exclusively book flights for 5am. It didn't matter, Harry hadn't really slept at all anyway. He'd been staring over at Louis in bed, feeling like his body was about to get split in half. Part of him wanted to jump into Louis' bed and lie there, the other part wanted to jump straight out of the hotel's window. Every time he relaxed for a second, some little voice spat out in the back of his brain: _That was Louis in that video. And you touched yourself to it._ Harry had pretended to be asleep when Louis woke up, not opening his eyes until he heard the sound of the shower start running. He sat up in bed, not really having an appetite for breakfast yet, so he just stayed still, listening to the city below them. Louis emerged from the hotel bathroom with a towel around his hips, wet hair slicked back. His skin had that fresh, supple look from being towel-dried, and Harry could see the v-cut of his hips that shouldn't be so familiar. Louis went to take the towel off and Harry let out a loud gasp, actually falling backwards off his bed. Luckily by the time he got himself up again, Louis had pulled on a pair of underwear. This was awful. He had to work with Louis for the next _four months_. That voice in his head hissed out again, completely uninvited: _Bet you wish you saw what was under that towel. Bet it looks even nicer in person._

\-----

Once they were up in the air, seatbelt sign off and in-air wifi sign on, Louis pulled out his iPad, deciding to bite the bullet and read what Jeremy had to say about Louis' sexuality. It was flat though, so he asked the stewardess for a charger and plugged it in. After a moment there was enough battery and it turned back on. A video started automatically. There was audio, “Oui! J'aime ça, oui-” Louis jammed a finger at the home button, feeling several pairs of eyes on him. And – what the fuck – he hadn't looked at porn the whole time he was in America – how did...? A faint memory had registered in the back of his mind though, and he fumbled for his headphones, plugging them in and opening the video again. It slowly came back to him – that's right, many years ago Anna Wintour had hired a male assistant for once, and Louis had set his sights on him. He was a hot little number, about the same age as Louis, and sucked dick so well that Louis had decided to film it for posterity. He'd lost the video ages ago though. It seemed someone else had put it online. He watched his younger self for a moment, hands gripping that American man's head to fuck his face harder. It was quite a nice little film. But how did it get on his iPad? Was this someone's idea of a joke? Louis heard that scrape-whoosh of earbuds being yanked out of his ears, and Harry beside him whispering desperately, “Louis, please, no-” Had the plane hit turbulence for a second or was it just Louis' stomach dropping? He couldn't think in actual sentences, he saw flashes – lending Harry his iPad, coming back to Harry naked in bed wrapped in a sheet - shit, Louis' hands were in that video and Harry had commented on his tattoo. The agonised look on Harry's face confirmed it. He'd definitely figured out it was Louis in the video. Louis locked the iPad screen, numbly sliding it into the pocket of the seat in front of him, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Harry, _toilettes_ – I mean, toilet. Now,” he said, rising and moving towards the airplane bathroom quickly. Harry followed, head hung in shame. Louis pushed him into the bathroom before locking the door behind them both. “Louis, I'm sorry,” Harry pleaded, but Louis held up a hand to silence him. “You watched that video?” Harry just nodded, eyes on the floor. “Do you know who's in it?” Louis asked. Harry didn't reply. Louis stepped forward, closing the already-small gap between them. “Do you know who's in it?” “You,” moaned Harry, utterly miserable. “Oh, hey,” Louis said, rubbing Harry on the shoulder, because he hadn't meant to upset him. Harry leant into his hand. “Don't feel bad. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was online. It's okay, I'm not angry! A little embarrassed, maybe.” “You don't need to be embarrassed!” Harry said, distressed but keeping his voice quiet. “I did something bad when I saw the video.” “Did you show someone?” Louis asked sharply. “No, no, I wouldn't ever do that to you! I just... I liked the video. _I really liked it_ ,” Harry said, the specific meaning of that statement clear in his facial expression. Louis took a step back to lean against the locked door and take a deep breath, because fuck, that thought was really hot. This sweet brunette boy, bare naked bar a white sheet, getting off to Louis? Fuck. “Am I in a lot of trouble?” “You are in no trouble at all!” Louis smiled at him. “Just please don't tell anyone about the video.” “Of course not!” Harry nodded. “Thanks for being so nice about this.” “It's fine, Harry! It's nothing, okay?” “Nothing, really? I mean, of course it's nothing – I'm not gay, you know.” Louis clapped him lightly over the head. “Yes, I know.” But they both laughed. “People look at all sorts of videos, it doesn't have to mean anything.” “Really?” Harry asked, curiously. “What do you look a– no, never mind, I won't ask.” They both laughed again. “We're good, Harry? You can still work with me?” Louis asked. “Of course! I like being around you.” Harry smiled, revealing his dimple. And – oh, that was sweet. They stood there for a minute. Louis enjoyed the comfortable silence, kind of surprised at how quickly that had been resolved. Harry fidgeted for a second, then placed a hesitant hand against Louis' chest, gently pushing him back against the bathroom door. And faster than Louis could process what was happening, Harry had dropped to his knees, his hands fumbling at Louis' belt. He wasn't exactly fast with it, and the motion tugging at the crotch of Louis' pants had him starting to get hard – of course he was getting hard though, he'd just watched a porn flick of himself and then he'd been in a tiny closed-off bathroom with this pretty little boy, and now- _Jesus Christ_ , now Harry had gotten Louis' belt undone and pulled it right out of his pants, gently placing it on the floor by Louis' feet. Harry gripped the front of Louis' thighs for a second, and Louis really shouldn't have but he pushed his hips forward, rising off the wall behind him, god, he wanted this so _bad_. Harry's fingers were undoing the button of Louis' pants, they were shaking, but they moved on to unzip his fly. The boy reached up and tugged, denim dragging as it pulled down past Louis' ass. Harry's face was so close that Louis could feel hot breath against the fabric of his underwear, and he was quite hard even though his cock hadn't even been touched. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He gently placed a hand either side of Harry's head and tilted it up, searching his eyes for some sort of explanation. They just looked deep into each other's eyes for a moment. Harry looked very serious, but also trusting, confident. Then Harry shook Louis' hands off his head. Harry took a deep breath, and then another. He pinched the thick elastic of Louis' underpants, monogrammed with CALVIN KLEIN, between his fingers and pulled down – but Louis had gotten so hard that the underwear got caught, pulling tight over the head of his cock, unable to be yanked down any further. Louis stared in shock for a second – the tip of his cock had left a small wet spot of precome on the fabric, what the _hell_ \- His eyes were pulled away from the sight by a small sob from Harry though, who had suddenly hidden his face in his hands. “Hey there, hey,” Louis said softly, putting his hands back on the side of Harry's head. Harry pushed them away, though, “No. Don't. I can do this, I'll do it-” and even though tears were welling in his eyes he hooked his fingers into Louis' underwear. Louis squatted down quickly, following the pull of his underpants so that they stayed on. He put his hands under Harry's armpits and pushed him up, sitting him on the metal airplane toilet. “No,” he said, just as firmly, pulling his jeans back up. “No?” Harry asked, confused. “Harry!” Louis then knelt down in front of Harry, so he could look up at his face. He put a hand on Harry's knee, giving him a small shake. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, okay? Ever. For anyone.” “I don't know what I want to do!” Harry wailed. “Shh, please,” Louis said, not wanting a stewardess to come knocking – they'd been in the bathroom for quite a while. “You don't have to do anything you're not ready to do, either.” “Not even with a man?” “What?” “Gay people are like, sex perverts, aren't they?” Although Harry was upset, that had definitely crossed a line. “How dare you say that. You need to think about what people have told you. I'm just the same as anyone else, okay, and I'm not going to stick my dick where it's not welcome.” Louis gave Harry's knee a harder shove, standing up. “Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean that.” Harry's eyes flew wide open in shock at his own swearing. “Oh my gosh, I didn't mean _that_ either,” he spoke up to the air above him. (Louis wondered – they were way up high in a plane, was god still meant to be above them?) “That's what people say, you know, I thought it was true. Like how a wife has to do stuff for her husband because they're married. You know. I thought since I started it-” “Harry, _no_ ,” Louis said, incredulous. “No, none of that. No.” He searched for the right words, because the kid had left him pretty speechless. “No one has do anything if they don't want to it, or if they're not ready to do it, or for any other reason. _Ever_ , do you understand?” “Not even if-” “If _nothing_ , Harry! You only ever do what you want to do, okay? And you never make someone else do something they don't want to do.” Harry's face got lost in thought for a second – apparently what Louis had said was revolutionary. Harry was _sixteen_ , surely he'd had sex ed at school by now? “Come here.” Louis pulled Harry up into a tight hug. Harry hugged back, not letting go. “Are you all right?” “Yeah, I'm fine.” “Are you all right?” Louis repeated. “Promise?” “Yes, promise. Sorry I'm so stupid.” “I don't think you are though, Harry,” Louis said thoughtfully. “You're pretty smart. You just need to think twice about what people have taught you, okay?” “I'll try,” Harry agreed, stepping back. Louis turned, unlocking the bathroom door. “Just – talk to me next time, okay, don't just dive straight into my pants.” Harry laughed. “Agreed.” It didn't hit Louis until they were both back in their seats on the plane... had they just agreed to a next time?

\-----

Coming home was surprisingly hard. Harry had missed Texas and his family, but... although Louis and he had only been in New York for two nights it felt like he'd lived a small lifetime there. His mother had come to pick him up at the airport, and Harry couldn't look her in the eye. She'd been delighted to meet Louis, even got a bit giggly when he kissed her hand and said, “Enchanté”. Harry giggled too – his mom couldn't tell that Louis was gay! Harry was looking forward to crashing into his own bed and forgetting the past three days, but his mother reminded him that he had to be filmed in all the outfits for the show. “Oh, Louis,” his mom had said. (“Lou-ie,” Harry hissed at her, embarrassed.) “You have to be there for the wardrobe test too, right? Why don't you drive with us?” Louis looked to Harry, questioning - Harry nodded at him. “Thank you, that's very kind.” Louis accepted. Louis sat in the front next to Harry's mom, leaving Harry in the back seat like a child. Harry felt kind of jealous – Louis was probably closer to his mom's age, but he was Harry's friend. And they worked together. Louis should be sitting in the back with him. He didn't get to tell his mom anything about New York. Once she found out Louis had only moved to the states a few days ago from Paris, she only wanted to talk about France. She'd been there before Harry was born – was he the only person in the world who'd never travelled overseas? Harry slumped down in his seat and pulled out his phone to play with. “'Arry! Would that be all right?” Louis' voice broke his concentration, and he died in-game. “What?” “Kids,” Harry's mom laughed in Louis' direction. She was so embarrassing. “Louis says he's staying in a hotel, I think that's nonsense. He's so new to the country, he should stay with us in a proper house!” “If that's okay with you, 'Arry,” Louis said, looking over his shoulder at Harry. Harry tapped the side of his phone against his hand a few times – was it okay? “Yeah, all right, sure,” he decided. Harry was barely present for the wardrobe test, mind miles away (still miles above him in the sky, really). He simply had to put on about thirty outfits then stand in front of the camera for a few minutes in each one, plenty of room to get lost in his thoughts. In the partitioned dressing area across from the set, Louis had pulled him aside and said, “'Arry.” Then smiled, correcting himself; “Hhhh-arry. It's going to be a lot quicker if I help you get dressed, do up your laces and buttons and that. But if you're not comfortable with me, we can get someone else to do it.” Harry was fine with it, though. Maybe it was the fact that Louis cared enough to check with him if it _was_ okay, that made it okay. Or maybe Harry kind of wanted Louis' hands brushing up against his chest. No, it was just that Louis was trustworthy. Harry didn't want Louis _touching_ him or anything gay like that. Louis was just like... a big brother. Yeah, that was it, a cool French older brother. He didn't mind getting dressed in front of Louis, and he didn't mind the funny way Louis pronounced his name. Back at home that night with Louis and his five suitcases in tow, Harry's mom put Harry to work in the kitchen while his older sister Gemma got to help set up Louis' bed in Harry's room. That part hadn't really been discussed, but of course it hadn't – they'd just shared a hotel room in New York, what was the difference? Harry and his parents sat at the table, a plate of food at every seat. They'd called out to Gemma that dinner was ready, and she'd called back, “Just a sec!” But it had been more than that - quite a few minutes, actually. “All right, I've waited long enough.” His dad rose, headed towards Harry's bedroom to get Gemma and Louis. Not a minute later, Harry heard a loud shout - “Get away from my daughter!” Harry and his mom made eye contact, and both stood up wordlessly, heading down the hall. His dad stood in the doorway, a storm brewing in his eyes. Louis and Gemma were standing on opposite sides of Harry's room, both squirming a little. “What's going on?” his mom asked. “That French man – he kissed our daughter!” “What?!” Harry yelped, incredulous, but he was completely drowned out by a whole bunch of yelling; his sister Gemma, and Louis, and both his parents all fought for a majority hold in the decibels. After a minute, his father won: “How dare you disrespect us like that, we invited you into our house and you-” “I'm telling you, I didn't touch 'er!” Louis said, his accent even thicker when he was angry. “I saw you!” Harry's dad bellowed back. “ _She_ kissed _me_!” “She wouldn't do that,” Harry's mom said sharply. “Look, I'm gay, okay!” Louis threw up his hands in frustration. “Oh, a likely-” Harry's dad started. “Ask the show's producer, he knows,” Louis insisted. “You're _what_?” Gemma looked at Louis, horrified. “Oh I am so embarrassed! I can't believe I kissed a gay man!” And she ran out of the room, hiding in her own bedroom. There was an awkward silence, then some profuse apology all round. Harry stood in silence, dumbfounded. It wasn't fair that Gemma got to kiss Louis. He should be the one who got to kiss Louis. Not in that way, or anything. It was just that Gemma didn't even know Louis. Harry and Louis were friends. Plus Harry was pretty sure Gemma had kissed before, and Harry hadn't gotten his first kiss yet. It wasn't fair. “Maybe it's best that I do stay in a hotel,” Louis said. “Oh, no.” Harry's mom surprised him, he thought she would have taken that cop-out. “We're sorry about the mix-up. I promise our daughter will get a good talking-to. Of course you can stay with us.” “Harry will sleep out in the lounge, though,” his dad added. Harry noticed Louis' eye-roll, but luckily his parent's didn't. Dinner was fine, mostly because Gemma stayed hidden in her room. When they finished eating, Louis started clearing plates. Harry rose to help him, showing him the dishwasher in the kitchen. “Hey, Louis?” Harry asked carefully. “Yes?” Louis replied. He seemed quite tired. “How do you say 'f' off in French?” “'Arry!” Louis laughed, surprised. “I thought you didn't swear.” “It doesn't count if it's not in English,” Harry said, even though he wasn't sure that was true. “Come on, teach me.” Louis paused, but he seemed a little amused, if not impressed. “All right, eh... just say... _Casse- toi_.” “Casse-toi,” Harry tried out. “Close enough.” “Thanks!” Harry smiled, exiting the kitchen and heading straight for Gemma's room. He threw her door open, yelling as loudly at her as he could, “Casse-toi!” Gemma blinked at him. “What?” “It means goodnight.” Harry shot her a fake smile and flounced off.

\-----

Louis was tired, but he couldn't sleep. Harry's bed was comfortable enough, but very small. It was pretty nice to be in a house rather than a hotel... but he still couldn't sleep. What a day. What a fucking day. A sixteen year old boy on his knees in front of him in an airplane bathroom, then only a few hours later that boy's twenty year old sister breathing, “You're very good looking,” and mashing her lips up against Louis'. What a weird family. Louis had checked that video of his, too – it had over three million views on it, a little terrifying - but very flattering. Louis looked up at the ceiling, not making out much in the dark but just listening to the quiet noises of the Texas night. He heard the toilet flush down the hall, then slowly the door of the bedroom opened, someone stepped inside and shut the door again. “You awake?” Harry's voice came through the dark. Louis hesitated. “You are, your eyes are open.” Harry giggled. “I think your parents would be angry to find you in here, Harry.” “They won't know, they're fast asleep.” “But they don't want you in here.” “I want to be in here.” Which – okay. Harry stepped closer. Louis felt weight on the bed next to him and suddenly Harry was lying next to him under the covers, their two bodies close together in that single bed, both lying on their backs. Louis had about a million things to say, but couldn't pick one. “I'm sorry my sister kissed you. Stupid b-word.” “It's okay,” Louis whispered, really hoping no one else in the house was awake. “It's _not_ okay!” Harry whispered back. “I'm pissed off. I'm angry, I mean. You're my friend, not hers. She should find her own friends. Stupid, stupid bi- you know.” “Oh, of course we're friends, Harry! You're the best friend I've got in Texas.” “Yeah, but she got to kiss you. It's not fair.” “It wasn't a proper kiss,” Louis assured him. “It was on the lips, wasn't it?” _On the lips_. Harry was so young. “Well, yes, but I didn't kiss back.” “You didn't?” Harry turned his face to the side, looking at Louis, pleased. Louis turned his face in too, to look back at Harry. “Of course not. I don't even know her.” “And you don't like girls,” Harry reminded him. Louis laughed. “Generally not.” Harry pulled a face at that, so Louis added, “Definitely not your sister, anyway.” “You like _boys_.” “Yes, Harry.” How many times did they have to have this conversation? “ _I'm_ a boy,” Harry whispered. “Yes.” “Would you kiss me back?” Louis' breath caught in his throat. “If I kissed you, would you kiss me back?” Harry demanded to know. “Er, I think I would, yes.” It was always a little easier to be honest in the dark, although Louis' eyes had adjusted to the night and he could make out Harry's eyes and nose and... lips. “What if I was too scared to kiss you?” “Harry, what?” Louis shook his head against the pillow in confusion. “I told you this morning, you never have to do anything you don't want to do.” “What if I wanted to, though?” Harry whispered, urgent, nervous. “What if I maybe wanted to, just to try kissing, you know, but I was too shy?” Louis stared right at Harry, just across from him in bed. His heart was pounding, because Harry looked so young but so old at once, he was wearing flannel pajamas for fuck's sake, but he was also biting his lower lip in what could definitely be interpreted as lust. And shit, Louis wanted to go for it. He wanted Harry to bite his lip instead. He wanted to taste the boy, tug at those curls. And it was all wrong, wrong, wrong, Harry was a teenager and Louis _worked with him_. Which was bullshit, because Louis had fucked people he had worked with in Paris. And New York. And London, and Milan, and... Louis clicked the lamp on and sat up, squinting in the sudden brightness. Harry crawled across the bed to sit in front of Louis. “I'm not gay,” Harry reminded him. Louis sighed, “Yes Harry, I know.” “I just want to try kissing.” God, he wasn't making this easy. “I want to try kissing with you,” Harry said. With the lamp on, Louis could see Harry was blushing furiously, and breathing so hard Louis could see his chest rise and fall. “I want to try what I saw in that video too. You know... blowjobs.” “Oh my god, Harry!” Louis cried out. There was a panicked silence for a second, they both sat there, ears pricked up, but no one else in the house stirred. Louis whispered, “You've never even kissed, Harry. One step at a time, all right?” “Exactly. So kiss me.” Harry's eyes were defiant. And – _fuck_. Louis wasn't here to make sure a cute little teenage boy stayed repressed, that's not what he signed on for. He signed on for a change of scenery and a simple head-of-wardrobe job. Louis wasn't exactly sitting on a throne of his own almighty morals, he'd cheated on boyfriends and 'borrowed' a lot of clothes from work and Harry wouldn't be the first 'straight' boy he'd kissed. Still, Harry was different, Louis cared about him - He cared about him. They were plunged into darkness again; Harry had switched off the lamp. Before Louis' eyes could adjust, Harry kissed him, just a peck. Soft lips, a little dry, pressed against Louis' for only a second. Harry's hands were clamped down on Louis' knees, he'd barely moved his head back at all. “You said you'd kiss me back,” Harry whispered. Louis wasn't a saint. He wasn't made of stone. Louis seized Harry's face in his hands and kissed the boy, relaxing his hands to a more gentle hold after a moment. Harry was a little clumsy, but not a terribly bad kisser. Louis felt Harry's tongue on his bottom lip – almost on his chin, really – so he opened his mouth and brushed his tongue against Harry's. Harry tasted all sweet and wet and faintly like toothpaste, and- _Jesus_. Harry _did_ bite Louis' lip. Louis let out a low grunt and lay back down in the bed with a small thud, pulling Harry on top of him. He could feel Harry's hard dick pressed against his thigh – which made this even worse, because Harry felt just as big as any adult Louis had had – and surely Harry could feel how hard Louis was too, pressed against the boy's hipbone. Louis reasoned it was okay just to kiss the boy. He was thirty-two and Harry was sixteen but that's all they were doing, kissing, it was harmless - Harry started thrusting, no rhythm to it, just desperately humping Louis' thigh, breaking the kiss to let out small gasps but letting his lips crash back down on Louis' straight afterward. Before Louis could make up his mind to push the boy away, Harry was crying out. Louis shot out a hand to cover up Harry's mouth and he gratefully pushed his lips into Louis' fingers, whimpering obscenely and writhing against Louis' leg even harder for a second more. Harry became still again and Louis slowly removed his hand. Harry's eyes were wide – more in amazement than fear. He awkwardly pulled himself off Louis to lie down next to him again. “I just-” Harry yanked at the fabric over his crotch. “In my pajamas.” “That's fine,” Louis said, not sure if that was the right thing to say. “Is that gay?” Harry asked hesitantly. Frustrated – both with blue balls and Harry's stupid questions - Louis covered up his entire face in his hands. “ _Harry_ ,” he groaned through the gap between his palms. “Sorry, sorry.” But something nudged at Louis' heart. When Louis was sixteen he knew he was gay and he knew he loved fashion and he knew he was going to move to Paris. Harry didn't seem to have a clue about himself. Louis slid an arm under Harry, pulling him in for a squeeze. Harry snuggled in appreciatively, so Louis didn't let go. “It's just a thing that happened, yeah? It doesn't mean you're gay, it doesn't mean you're not gay. Either way is fine. And it's just as fine if you don't know.” “You've got to know, don't you? You know you're gay.” “Yes.” Louis nodded, his face brushing against Harry's hair. “And I like that I know. But it's fine if you're not sure. It's not really important if you like girls or boys, you know.” “It's not?” Harry seemed genuinely surprised. “It doesn't change who you are, Harry. As long as you're a good person.” Louis felt a bit hypocritical saying that, he wasn't sure if he himself was a good person. Ignoring all the shady things he'd gotten away with in Paris, he'd just made out with a kid sixteen years his junior. The calculation hit him suddenly - Louis was twice Harry's age. “I never thought about it like that.” Harry spoke slowly. It sounded like he was getting sleepy. “Hey,” Louis gave Harry a squeeze in his arms. “You better get back to the couch.” “Oh, can't I sleep here? With you?” He sounded so earnest that Louis felt bad saying no. Harry had never had an orgasm with another person before, he was probably feeling... all sorts of things. “What happens when your parents get up for breakfast and you're not on the couch?” “Just for a bit, please Louis.” “All right. Of course, of course.” Louis reached over Harry to grab his phone off the night stand, setting an alarm for an hour's time. When he lay back down, Harry turned in to face him, resting his brow against Louis' chin. Louis kissed Harry's forehead, almost reflexively. “Hey, Harry,” he murmured against Harry's forehead. “Mm-hm?” “Just be really careful who you tell about this, okay?” “I don't think I can tell anyone about this.” And although Harry sounded sad, the assurance of secrecy was a relief to Louis. He thought Harry had fallen asleep, but after a while Harry said one last thing. “Thanks for the books you got me at that shop in New York. I really like them.” It felt like mere minutes later that Louis' alarm woke them both up again. Harry obediently snuck out to his makeshift bed in the lounge room. Louis couldn't fall back asleep, but just lay in Harry's bed, dreading the sunrise. He wasn't looking forward to facing himself in the light of day.


	4. Chapter 4

The bedroom door opened again and Louis sat up quickly, but it wasn't Harry, it was his father Robin.

“Tomlinson!” he said, the cheer in his voice perhaps a little forced. “Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes, and we'll head off to church in about an hour.”

“Oh, I don't go to church.”  
“It'll be good for you.” Robin nodded, and Louis didn't have to read too far between the lines.

Louis was no stranger to putting his foot down, but he was actually quite curious as to what Harry's church was like. He might go, just this once, to see what they were all about.

They all sat down to eat breakfast together. Besides the previous night's dinner, Louis honestly couldn't remember when he'd last had a family meal. Gemma set a plate of eggs and toast down in front of Louis, a strained expression on her face.

“Thank you, Gemma.” Louis tried to break the ice. “I hope you slept well.”

Harry's mother Anne handed a hot cup of coffee to Louis, and he took a big sip. It was very sweet, too sweet, but caffeine was caffeine.

Louis lifted up his knife and fork, but Harry cleared his throat at him. The whole Styles family were holding hands with each other. Anne gave him a small nod to join them. “Harry?” she prompted.

Harry spoke. “Lord, we thank you for this breakfast here this morning. We thank you for keeping our family together, and we hope today's church service brings us closer to you. Thank you for the company of our guest-”

Robin interrupted him. “And lord, we pray that you keep us all on your path, the path of what is right and moral.”

“Amen,” everyone but Louis said. They began to eat.

Harry kicked Louis under the table. Louis looked up; Harry had his eyes on the ceiling but was slowly rotating his plate, revealing two letters he'd squirted onto his eggs in ketchup. “BJ”.

Louis choked on his coffee, coughing it onto his white Moschino shirt. Fuck Harry.

Anne leapt up and began dabbing at Louis' chest with a napkin. Harry had quickly put a piece of toast on top of his eggs, hiding his little message.

“Sorry,” Louis said “It went down... what do you say?” “The wrong hatch,” Anne finished for him.

“I might go rinse this shirt, if that's okay?”  
“Sure, the laundry's two doors down after Harry's room.”

Louis walked down the hall, quite relieved to have a bit of space from the prayer-happy family. He rinsed his shirt out and then found a stain remover to soak it in, although it was probably a lost cause. Out of the corner of his eye he recognised Harry's flannel pajamas, lying in the top of the dirty laundry basket.

He picked up the pajama pants to inspect them, and sure enough there was quite a big spot of dried come on them. He put them in to soak as well, thinking he was just being helpful, but as he rubbed the fabric together in his hands guilt washed over him – he kind of felt like he was destroying evidence to save his own ass.

Both of Harry's parents drove their cars to church, although they would have all fit in the one. Louis suspected Robin didn't want Louis sitting next to Harry or Gemma in the back seat, and most certainly not right in between the two.

\-----

Harry was surprised to see Jeremy, Linda, and some crew members he recognised from the wardrobe test, all waiting at the church. His parents greeted them warmly though. _Thanks for filling me in_ , Harry grumbled to himself. And wait – Louis had made him change his shirt twice before they left. Had he known too?

The crew had put big lights to shine on a row of seats right at the front, and directed Harry and his family to sit there, even though they normally sat more in the middle.

“Oh, Louiss, no.” Jeremy shook his head as Harry's family all sat down, a makeup artist already brushing powder onto his mother's face. “You can't be in this shot.” Louis nodded curtly, standing back up again.

Harry turned around in his seat, peering out. “Lou, some of my friends are back there, you can sit with them?”

“It's fine.” Louis stayed standing with the film crew instead.

“Congregation!” Father Alan took to the altar, microphoned voice booming across the large church. “You may notice our church is looking a little different today! I'd like you to welcome my good friend Jeremy Wash and his CNTV production crew.”

The church broke out into applause. Louis winked at Harry – he wasn't clapping. Harry giggled but swiftly received an elbow in his side from his mother. “Behave sweetie, cameras are on you.”

Father Alan told the congregation that Harry was filming for a Christian reality TV show. His sermon that day was about staying true to yourself and true to Jesus, tying into the analogy that Harry would be travelling across the country having to remain strong in his faith as he was representing God.

_Be yourself._ Father Alan made it sound so simple. Harry didn't know who he was. He wasn't sure who God wanted him to be any more either.

They hung back after the service, a lot of the congregation members shaking Harry's hand and congratulating him on getting cast for the show.

Jeremy told Harry's parents he'd like to get Harry down to Austin in a few days for some media coaching, explaining that their press relations manager had other business there anyway so it would be easiest to get Harry to travel down to her.

Louis gave a loud snort. Harry shot him a curious look but Louis just mouthed, later.

Harry's parents were all for it though. He had an uncle living in Austin who would gladly have Harry stay with him. Harry asked if Louis was coming, but Jeremy said it wasn't necessary. He'd only be in Austin for a couple of nights, and they wouldn't be filming it anyway.

\-----

They were sitting in a pizza shop – the church service had bored Louis half to death and he'd just come out with a complete lie to Harry's parents; “The tailor's just emailed me and said he has an opening this afternoon, is it all right if I take Harry to get fitted? It will really help if we can get it done today instead of next week, especially now that he has to go to Austin.” Which was pretty brazen, but he just had to get away from the stifling conservative southernness for an hour or two.

Louis gave Harry a high-five as they sped off together in the company car, explaining to him, “There is no appointment.” Of course there wasn't; what Louis couldn't get haute couture or fitted, he hand-tailored himself. He was a professional, after all.

“Why did you laugh about me going to Austin?” Harry asked, picking anchovies off his slice.

“They don't need you in Austin. They need you away from your parents,” Louis explained, dabbing oil off his pizza with a serviette.

“What?”

“'Media training' means they're going to teach you how to answer any and all questions – you know, for on the show, and also for interviews. They don't want your parents to come because they want free reign to train you.” “Train me?” Harry repeated, insulted.

“Just remember what I said, okay? You need to think more about what people tell you. Don't believe it all. Make up your own mind about it. You've got a good mind, you know, trust it more.”

“All right, yeah,” Harry had said slowly. “It will be cool to see my uncle Paul at least!”

“Has he got any kids around your age?”

“I'm not a kid,” Harry reminded Louis. “Remember, I've kissed-”

“Shh!” Louis looked around nervously, but no one was listening to them. “Have you got any cousins in Austin, I meant.”

“No, my uncle never got married, so no kids. I kind of feel bad that he doesn't have a family. But he has a good friend that he's lived with for years, so at least he has him?”

Louis let out that loud snort again. “Good friend, right.” He winked at Harry, taking a sip of his soda.

Harry paused for a small eternity, then suddenly his mouth dropped wide open. “No!” “Does he come to Christmas each year?” Louis asked, a little smug.  
“Yeah, always.”  
“Is his name written on the card too, on the presents you get?”

“Well – yeah.”  
“Do your parents hate him?”  
Harry paused.  
Louis felt a little bad for being so amused – but only a little. “They _do_ hate him, don't they?” “They don't hate him, they just – oh my gosh. He is Paul's boyfriend!”  
Louis sat back, pleased. This little trip might do Harry some good.

\-----

Louis had driven them back home by late afternoon. Bellies full from their secret afternoon trip, they both forced down most of their dinners to avoid suspicion.

“Now Harry,” his dad started, although he was looking more at Louis. “I'm going fishing in the morning, and your mother has to take Gemma to her softball tournament in Oklahoma, so we'll both be gone really early in the morning – by six at the latest. We're trusting that you'll be on your best behaviour with our guest, understand?”

“Of course. I'm sure Louis will have heaps of work to do anyway, right?” Harry hinted.

“Oh, yes.” Louis seemed to catch on. “I'll probably be heading off to work just a couple of hours after all of you.”

Harry was woken up by his mom, kissing him on the forehead. The display on the DVD player across from him in the lounge showed it was 5:25am.

“Bye-bye, sweetie. Your dad's already headed off. We'll all be back after dinner, so make sure you're a good host for Louis, okay? I've left twenty dollars by the phone if you need to order in, but I'd really prefer it if you cooked.”

“Mm-hm,” Harry replied sleepily. “Tell Gemma good luck with her game.”

Harry waited five minutes after his mom's car had pulled out, just in case they had to come back for anything.

He started creeping out of the lounge room, then realised he didn't have to. A smile broke out across his face as he ran through the empty house, hurling himself through his bedroom door and jumping onto the bed Louis lay in.

Louis inhaled sharply though his nose as he was woken up. Eyes half-open, he looked up at Harry. “Bonjour, petit-ami.”

“What's that mean?” Harry asked.

Louis opened his eyes properly, made a sort of dismissive “Mm,” sound, then just asked, “What's the time?”

“Five-thirty.”  
“Five- 'Arry!” Louis lifted up the covers and pulled Harry down by his side, hugging him close. “I-” but Harry was interrupted by Louis placing a hand over his mouth.  
“Shh, sleep now,” Louis murmured, stroking Harry's cheek with his thumb.

When Harry woke again, the sun was up. He checked the clock on the nightstand. It was past ten, a much more reasonable hour to be awake. Harry gave a small stretch, suddenly aware that he had morning wood of a particularly impressive severity.

Thinking about it only made it worse, and being so close to Louis made it even worse. He'd only come in here for a cuddle, honestly – good friends did that, right? Harry had never woken up in the same bed as someone other than a family member, and this was much cosier than those times.

Harry's body almost acted on its own accord. He rolled over to face Louis, who was still fast asleep and lying on his back. Harry pulled himself in closer, enjoying the warmth of Louis' body and his smell and his slow breathing and... okay, the pressure between Harry's morning wood and Louis' hip was kind of nice too.

Harry wiggled a bit. _Really_ nice. He kept wiggling.  
“'Arry, 'Arry, wake up!” Louis pushed at Harry's shoulder. Ah – he thought Harry was moving in his sleep. Suddenly embarrassed, Harry gave into Louis' push and fell onto his back. “Sorry to wake you up, but you were... having a dream,” Louis said.

Harry reached under the covers. His underwear had become so uncomfortable and he had to set himself free. That was a mistake though – the liberation had caused a small mountain to be propped up in the duvet.

“Oh my,” Louis commented. “Impressive. Shall I leave you to deal with that?” “I don't do that,” Harry said automatically.  
Louis gave Harry a sideways glance, but said, “Suit yourself.”  
“You could deal with it for me,” Harry said, belly suddenly on fire with nerves. Louis coughed.

Harry knew he should just shut up, go and have a cold shower or do some jumping-jacks, but this unmet need in his crotch was just building so intensely that it was making his heart beat in his throat. He was so nervous his mouth felt dry, so he took a sip of water from Louis' cup on the nightstand before lying back down and continuing. “Come on, we're friends, aren't we? Help me out.”

“Oh, all your other friends do that for you, huh?” Louis asked sarcastically.

“Well, no, but they're just teenagers. You're an adult,” Harry pointed out.

Louis gave a short, hollow laugh. “That's more of a reason for me not to help you out, I think.” Once more Louis pushed firmly at Harry's shoulder, turning Harry over to face away from him.

“Oh,” Harry said, realising. “What you said to me, about not making people do things they didn't want to do. Is this one of those times?”

Louis then slid an arm around Harry, pulling him back in tight against his chest. His mouth was just behind Harry's ear as he sighed in defeat. “No, 'Arry... I want to.”

There was a pause.

“It's nice that you checked, you know. That's a good thing to do,” Louis said.

“You can check with me too,” Harry blurted out. He felt Louis' forehead softly hit the back of his skull, but Louis didn't say anything. “Ask me!” Harry whispered, so nervous that he felt the back of his throat burning.

“What do you want me to do to you?” Louis asked, voice low, breath hot in Harry's hair.

And – ah. Harry hadn't thought this through, he didn't think he could actually say the words out loud.

Louis' hand was still on his chest though, so Harry picked it up in his own hand and moved them both down under the covers, clumsily wrapping Louis' fingers around his hardness, leaving his hand on top of Louis'.

_“Tres gros,”_ Louis breathed out.

“What's that mean?”

“Nothing,” Louis said quickly, but Harry was sick of that routine. He pinched the back of Louis' hand, and then again even harder. “Ow! _Ow_ , stop! I just said – you're quite big, 'Arry.”

“Really?! I-” but whatever thought Harry was about to express was cut short when Louis gave him an appreciative squeeze. Harry saw stars, and had to pinch himself then too, to stop from blowing already.

Louis began to stroke him, gently, and Harry let out a fervent gasp at the feeling – the rare few times he'd done this to himself he was so racked with shame that he just got it over and done with as fast as possible, he'd never started slow like this. Louis' hand ran up and down his length, when he got to the end he ran his thumb over and let out an appreciative moan. “Oh, 'Arry.” Harry had sort of gathered it was a bad thing if your dick got wet too quickly, but Louis seemed to like it.

Louis started to hold on a bit tighter and Harry just melted. It all felt so good, Louis' hand firm around his dick but also just _all_ of Louis, wrapping around Harry from behind, from head to toe. Harry pushed himself backwards, wanting to be even closer. He bristled when he felt Louis against his bum – yikes, he was hard too - but Louis gave an even louder moan and sharply thrust himself against Harry.

That had to be a bit gay, but Harry didn't even care right now. He'd worry about it later, right now all he cared about was how incredible this felt. He was whimpering absolute nonsense and writhing himself against Louis' body – if he was pushing his bum back firmly against Louis' dick that was just a coincidence – and clutching at the bedsheets with sweaty palms and-

“Oh, Louis – I'm gonna – please, _kiss me_ ,” Harry gasped out, turning himself over and somehow Louis was right there, above him, kissing him deeply – although Harry didn't have the wherewithal to concentrate on kissing back.

_“Fuck!”_ Harry all but shouted, voice cracking embarrassingly high-pitched, feeling his whole body pulse as he came.

After that point in his own explorations, he would have dropped his penis like a hot iron and clamped his two hands together in a shameful prayer of apology. Louis had kept his hand there though, although it was a wet, sticky mess. He stroked Harry just a few more times, very gently. Harry let out an involuntary shiver of pleasure at that brand new sensation. Louis slowed his hand down and just rested it very softly at the base of Harry's dick.

After a while, Harry could feel himself going soft again under Louis' hand. He wasn't quite sure if that was supposed to be embarrassing or not, going soft in front of someone.

“I'll just go get a towel.” Louis smiled down at Harry.  
“No, don't go.” Harry reached for Louis' hand.  
“Careful, they're a bit-”  
“I don't care,” Harry said, interlocking his fingers with Louis', pulling him back down to face him.

“You _swore_ , 'Arry,” Louis said after a moment, pushing a tongue into his cheek as if to fight back laughter.

“Oh man, I did.” Harry slapped his free palm against his forehead.

“It's okay!” Louis assured him, squeezing his hand. Harry felt wet come slide through the gaps between their fingers.

That was probably true – in the grand scheme of the morning's activities, the swearing was probably the least of Harry's worries.

“Sorry, just a sec,” Louis said, untangling his hand from Harry's to adjust his underwear, mouth scrunched up as he shifted his hips. His discomfort was clear.

“Ah,” Harry said. “Are you – like, do I have to...” Louis gave him a small smirk though, so Harry fixed his face into a fake expression of deep concentration. “Wait, wait, a memory is coming back to me... someone, I can't remember who, once told me that you don't have to do anything you're not ready to do.”

“Good man.” Louis nodded.  
Louis had just called him a _man._  
“I might just take a shower, all right?” Louis said. “Yeah, of course. I'll get breakfast ready,” Harry offered.

Louis looked so _nice_ sitting up in the morning sun, the scruff on his chin catching the light, his hair resting to the side of his temple. Louis' eyes had been the first thing Harry had noticed the day they met, sparkling grey and piercing, and – although Harry knew it was impossible – they seemed a lot more blue now, softer and fonder. Louis really was very nice to look at. Harry wouldn't half mind getting to look at him every morning.

Harry reached out to pull Louis's face in for another kiss, forgetting too late that one of his hands was smeared with come – but Louis gave an exited “Mm!” against Harry's lips, sort of rubbing his face against Harry's wet hand. Whoa. _Yikes._

Of course Harry would be marrying a girl in five or ten years' time, but maybe Louis wouldn't ever go back to France. Maybe they could all live together, and he and Louis could eat breakfast with each other every morning and Harry would get to see him all soft and natural, before his hair got put into a quiff, before they had to be around anyone else. Louis was a lot nicer when they were alone. Not because they got to do stuff, but Louis just seemed a lot more careful around everyone else, like he had to be professional-Louis and that meant he wasn't allowed to be himself. Harry wondered if it had been different back in Paris, if work-Louis and Louis-Louis were the same there.

Still, it was a nice to think that Louis could be himself around Harry.

Harry kind of felt like Louis was the only person he could be himself around, but that was a scary thought.

\-----

Louis emerged from the shower quite hungry – back in Paris he'd generally gotten by just on coffee until the late afternoon, but his stomach had quickly adjusted to the American routine. As he walked down the hall towards the kitchen, he wondered if Harry was a good cook – the sudden scent of smoke assaulted his nostrils, apparently disproving that theory.

Louis quickened his pace and entered the kitchen. There was a pan on the stove, empty but smoking off under a high heat. Louis strode over, grabbing the handle. _“Merde!”_ It was hot.

“There's a potholder,” a voice came from behind him, thick with tears. Louis spun around – he hadn't seen Harry there, slumped down on the floor against the kitchen bench. Louis turned back to the stove quickly, using the potholder to move the pan off the heat, turning the element off with his other hand. He looked to see if he could open the kitchen window to clear the light smoke, but Harry's soft, small sobs snapped him back.

Louis knelt down, gently placing a hand on Harry's knee. Harry wailed, pulling his knees away from Louis and up into his chest.

“Sorry, sorry.” Louis shuffled back a bit to give him space. “What's going on?”

Harry couldn't find any words, which seemed to only upset him even further. He wrenched his arm out from between his stomach and legs and started banging his fist into his forehead.

Louis wanted to grab Harry, stop him, but he had a feeling touching him would only make it worse. He fumbled through cupboards, trying to find a cup. He settled for a bowl, quickly filling it with water and throwing it at Harry, who stopped hitting himself, thank goodness.

A red-faced Harry looked up at Louis in shock, water trickling off his hair and down his face.

Louis sat down at the wall opposite Harry. “Is this about this morning?” he asked, guessing Harry wasn't just reacting to running out of orange juice.

Harry nodded, gulping.

“Shit, I'm so sorry, Harry.” Louis wondered if there was a flight he could get out of the country before this all blew up in his face.

“Oh, don't say that, I'll just feel even worse,” Harry said.  
“I shouldn't have done it, Harry. It was really wrong of me. I'm really sorry.”

“No, don't. You're gay so you're allowed to do that stuff, _you_ didn't do anything wrong. I'm not gay though, I'm not allowed to do that stuff. And I can't take it back!” Harry wailed, throwing his head back. Louis heard it thunk against the kitchen bench.

“You wish you could take it back?” Louis asked carefully, standing up. He'd settle for the first flight out of the _state_ at this point.

He was pushed back against the wall so hard it almost winded him, Harry had shot up like a rocket and crashed into Louis, arms wrapped around him tight, the water he'd splashed the boy now getting soaked through Louis' own t-shirt.

“No! No, no, _no_. I like you, Louis. As a friend, I mean. I'm just confused.”  
Louis hugged Harry back, giving his wet hair a ruffle. “Well, Austin tomorrow, right? Give you a chance to get away from it all for a bit.”

By the next day, the tension in the Styles household could be described as awkward at best. 'Painful' might be more accurate. All of Harry's family members seemed to watch Louis out of the corner of their eye, like he might burst into a cloud of glitter and infect them all with his sexuality.

They'd held hands round the table at breakfast to say grace again - all but Robin to Louis' right, refusing to touch him.

After breakfast, Harry had left for Austin. Louis had tried to make up a lie about having work to do in the bedroom, but Robin had said, “Nonsense, Harry's away, what work could you need to do? Come watch the game.”

Somewhere between the shouts of, _“You throw like a girl!”_ and _“You pack of sissies!”_ , Louis had pulled out his phone and started searching for hotels in Dallas.

By, _“You stupid poofter, you're nowhere near the ball!”_ , he'd booked a room with the online form.

And just before half time - _“You're a fag, ref, what kind of call was that?!”_ \- Louis rose to pack his bags.

Anne was in the kitchen, starting to make lunch. Louis thanked her for her generous hospitality and made up a half-hearted lie about needing a larger room to spread Harry's new clothes out in, to plan outfits. Anne looked a little guilty though, and Louis thought she could tell that they'd all made him quite uncomfortable.

_Good. She should feel guilty._

\-----

Harry got out of the car, glad to be able to stretch his legs after the three-hour trip. It was pretty strange going with a driver – the man didn't talk much and he didn't put on the radio either. Harry's phone had died halfway through and he was just stuck there, tied up in his thoughts. Guilty thoughts.

“Harry!” His uncle Paul opened the front door to his house, pulling in him into a hug. “How are you?”

“Bit tired, actually,” Harry said.

Paul held Harry out at arm's length, brow furrowed. “Yeah, you don't look great. Get in here, put your PJs on.”

“I have that coaching thing though.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Paul said firmly. “I'll call and say you're unwell. Do you remember where Michael's room is? You'll be sleeping in there.”

Harry nodded, dragging his bag in that direction. He noticed a framed photo of Paul and his housemate Michael on the wall – had that always been there? Harry changed into his pajamas quickly, although the sun would still be up for many more hours. He came out again to the kitchen just as Paul was hanging up the phone.

“Sorted, you've got the afternoon off. Want a drink?” Paul asked, opening the fridge to display it's contents.

“Can I have a beer?” Harry tried.  
“Not right now. Maybe with dinner - _maybe_.”

“Orange juice, then. Thanks.” Harry couldn't really think of anything to say, besides, “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Good to have you!” Paul smiled. “So, are you really just tired?”

“No,” Harry admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?” his uncle offered. “Michael won't be home for a couple of hours.”

“My friend Louis thinks Michael's your boyfriend,” Harry blurted out, not able to keep it in for another second.

Paul looked at Harry. He seemed quite sad.

“I mean – not in a bad way. My friend Louis is gay... are you?”

“Your parents don't want me to tell you the answer to that.”

“You shouldn't lie to me, though. You shouldn't lie to your family.”

“That's true.”

“It's not Michael's room I'm sleeping in, is it? It's just a spare room,” Harry asked, sort-of-but-not- really changing the question.

“Yes.”  
“Michael sleeps with you.”  
Paul nodded.  
“What were you going to do, make him sleep out on the couch?” Paul sighed. “Yeah, I was, actually.”

That idea really hurt Harry. “My parents are making me sleep out on the couch at the moment. It sucks, you know. Don't do that to Michael.”

“Wait, why do _you_ have to sleep on the couch?” Paul look at Harry, curious.  
“Well my gay friend Louis, he's staying with us at the moment. In my room. And my parents don't

want me to share the room with him because they think we might do stuff.” “Would you 'do stuff'?” Paul asked gently.

Harry was about to dismiss him, _no, I'm not gay_ , but hadn't he just said that you shouldn't lie to family? He took a deep breath. “Maybe we have done stuff. In secret.”

“Perhaps we do both need a beer,” Paul said, going up to the fridge again.

“He's not my boyfriend, though! Not like you and Michael.”

“Michael's more than my boyfriend, you know. I'd be his husband if I could be.”

“Wow.” Harry was stunned. He took a sip of the beer, trying to not make a face at the bitter taste. “Congratulations, I guess?”

Paul laughed. “Thanks. So, what exactly is bothering you?”

That was a tricky question to answer. Harry did the best he could – he felt bad about doing stuff with Louis, because it was wrong, wasn't it? And he also felt bad that he didn't feel bad while doing it and if he could go back in time he'd probably do it again anyway. And that was seriously wrong because his parents and his pastor all said gay stuff was bad, bad, bad. Harry was getting really concerned because he had liked it a lot and - telling Paul about the models he met at the nightclub in New York – he didn't know if he'd like doing that kind of stuff with a girl when he had to.

“Who says you have to be with a girl?” Paul asked.  
“Everyone! The bible, my parents, everyone. They always talk about _'when you have a wife_ ' and ' _not until you're married'_.”  
“You're sixteen! You don't have to worry about marriage yet. You've gotta live in the moment, Harry. Enjoy what's happening now.”

The old Harry would have stopped the conversation, probably several minutes ago. This Harry had that alcohol-feeling however, and he just wanted to tell his uncle everything. “What if Louis is what's happening right now?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Is he a good friend to you?”  
“Of course.”  
“More than a friend, maybe?”  
“No,” Harry said firmly, finishing his beer. “Just friends. That's all.” “Just friends who get to do 'stuff' together.”

The beer made Harry nod in agreement.

Dinner that evening was really nice, the three of them sat around the table. Paul and Michael made to start eating straight away, but Harry stopped them, asking if he could say grace first. “Of course.” Paul smiled.

“God, thank you for this dinner in front of us. May it nourish our bodies. Thank you for giving me two great uncles who are so nice as to have me stay with them. Amen.”

Harry started eating, but neither of the older men did. “What?” he asked around a mouthful of food.

“Oh, Harry!” Michael said, blinking up at the ceiling. “Did you just call me your _uncle_?” “Yeah.” Harry nodded, realising he had.

Michael looked across at Paul, who nodded in confirmation – if Harry wasn't wrong, Paul looked quite proud.

Michael jumped up from the table and hugged Harry from behind his chair, giving the back of his head a quick kiss. _“Harry!”_ he said – Harry guessed that meant 'thank you'.

“Harry's got a crush, you know,” Paul informed Michael as he returned to his meal.  
“I do _not_ have a crush,” Harry corrected him immediately. “I have... a... kissing buddy.” “Ooh, _kissing buddy_ , even better.” Michael wiggled his eyebrows. “What's her name?” “Louis,” Harry admitted, heart hammering.  
Michael didn't even react, really. “Lou-ie, cool name. He a good kisser?”  
“Oh yeah,” Harry said, eyes wide. They had no idea how good.  
“Where'd you two meet, by the way? Back at school?” Paul asked.

“Um – he went to a different school,” Harry said, which wasn't a lie. He just didn't explain that it was in a different _decade_ either. “Please don't tell my parents anything about this though? Please?” He looked at his two uncles, suddenly terrified.

“Of course not,” Paul promised him. “You can trust us. If you ever need to talk about boys – or girls.”

“Or sex,” Michael piped up.

Harry was so shocked he dropped his fork. “I don't think so! No sex for me. Not until I'm married.”

“Well, gotta the tension out in another way, then! We normally go for a run after dinner, did you want to come?”


	5. Chapter 5

Louis lay back on the fully-made bed in the hotel. With the money he'd saved staying with the Styles family for a few nights, he was able to twist Linda's arm into having the company pay for quite a nice suite. Louis heard his phone go off in his bag. He reached for it, reading a text from Harry.

 

_You were right about the 'roomate'. I have a new uncle now. :)_

Louis typed a reply. _I'm always right. Hey, I'm staying in a hotel now. Missing your family of course but needed a bigger space to spread out all your new clothes._ It was an outright lie on two parts, he was thoroughly enjoying the peace and quiet away from Harry's parents and the only clothes in the hotel were Louis' own.

Harry seemed to believe the lie. _We all just went for a run – check out the sunset!_ Louis opened the picture Harry had sent though. There could have been pigs flying across the sky for all Louis noticed, his eyes were fixed on Harry standing in the bottom-left of the picture. Basketball shorts just skimming his knees, t-shirt removed and held in his hand, hair sweaty and pushed back.

_Fuck,_ he looked good. He looked hot. Louis wanted to - But he couldn't.Not to Harry.

But surely he could find a college kid at a bar somewhere in Dallas. Louis pulled himself up off the bed and slid his feet into shoes, not even bothering to tie up the laces before leaving the hotel room.

Louis was just as good at picking up as he was at his day job – not an hour later he had a half- drunk twenty-something frat boy pressed up against the door of his hotel room, expertly kissing his neck, hands firmly wrapped around the young man's muscular hips.

“Wait, we can't – _oh fuck that feels good_ – we can't do anything out here, someone might see!” Louis rolled his eyes, but pulled the keycard out of his pocket and swiped them in. Just as he slid the card back into his pocket, he felt his phone ring. Harry.“I've got to answer this,” he said, giving the guy's crotch a firm squeeze. “Won't be long babe.”

“Good evening!” Harry called out through the phone, cheery. “Just got out of the shower. Did you get the picture of the sunset?”

“Yeah, looked fucking incredible.”

“Louis! Don't swear.”

“Sorry-”

The frat boy interrupted Louis from across the room. “Hey dude, can I have one of the beers in the fridge?”

Louis nodded.“Who's there?” Harry asked.“Oh – just a friend.” Louis would have said the guy's name, if he'd only bothered to learn it. “I thought _I_ was your best friend in Texas.”“You still are.”

An unappetisingly wet kiss landed on the back of Louis' neck. “Come on, let's get you out of those pants, French boy.”

“ _Shh!_ ” Louis hissed, but he was too late.“Louis?” Harry said, uncertain. “Who is that?”“Just a friend, I promise.”“Well... just don't make a blanket fort with him, okay? That's our thing.” _Our thing._

Another wet kiss was planted further down Louis' neck. Louis gave a swift kick to the shin behind him, and covering the receiver said, “Piss off for a minute, will you?” A grumpy look was shot his way, but he was given a few meter’s space.

“Listen, Louis. I have something important to say.”

Louis sat down on the edge of the bed, fearing the worst – had Harry told his uncles what had happened between them?

“Paul's boyfriend Michael talked to me before. He said, that, um, experimentation is important and – he's not even going to tell Paul, but he said that if I wanted to stay with you for a night, since I told him you weren't at my place any more, um, you know - not that I'm going to experiment, but we could just hang out. He'd lie-”

“What?” Louis asked – Harry's babble was testing the limits of Louis' very good grasp on the English language.

“He'll tell my parents I'm still staying with him and drive me to come stay with you. Just for a night or two.” Harry said, all very quickly.

Well, then.

“Can you hold on for just a second?” Louis said, putting the phone down on the bed and turning to the college boy. “Ken-”

“Kieran,” he was corrected.

“Whatever. You have to leave. _Now_.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No,” Louis said, striding over to the door and opening it. “Get out.”

The guy threw his empty beer bottle across the room, smashing it. “You fucking French _fag_!” he yelled, and he actually _spat_ on Louis' shirt as he walked out.

Louis locked the door and pulled his shirt off, throwing it straight into the bin. He picked up his phone, glad to see Harry hadn't hung up. “Sorry, I'm back.”

“Did you just like, kick that guy out?”“If you're coming here Harry, I want you to be the only one to share this bed with me.”

\-----

The lady who did the media coaching spoke to Harry like he was a child. She used all these keywords like 'Christian family values' as if Harry was too stupid to understand she meant 'not gay people'. He answered all her sample questions with ease though, because really he'd spent all his life learning the right answers to those questions.

Problem was he wasn't sure if he really believed them any more.

She explained to him that he had to be very careful who he was seen with, especially as the show gained popularity, there was sure to be a greater interest from paparazzi and news stations. 'Of course, you'll be very busy with the schedule Jeremy will have set,” she said - which Harry thought meant something more like, “Jeremy will tell you who you can and can't spend time with.”

Lastly she gave Harry a sheet of usernames and passwords, all his new social media he was to use from now on. He gathered it was important that she had all the passwords for it too.

Harry's uncle Paul gave him a big bear hug goodbye. “Can't believe you were only here two nights, I'm really gonna miss you. Come again soon, yeah?”

“Well, I'll be on tour for the show for a few months, but I'd like to visit after that. Thanks so much for talking to me, you know.”

“You call me as soon as another question pops up, you hear?”

The trip with Michael was much more fun than it had been with the boring man who'd driven Harry there in the first place. Michael played his radio loud and wound all the windows down. Harry made waves through the air with his hand. He loved that feeling.

“Snacks?” Michael offered, pulling into a gas station. “My treat!”

Five minutes later he was back in the car, dropping a plastic bag into Harry's lap. Harry inspected the contents – sour snakes, a bottle of coke, barbecue flavour chips, a few candy bars, and-

“Oh my _goodness_ , Michael, I think you left your-”“The condoms are for you,” Michael said, apparently concentrating on the road even though it

was a simple straight highway. “Do you know how to put them on?”“No, but I'm _not_ going to have sex!” Harry sunk down in his seat, hot with embarrassment.

“That's fine, good for you, but now you've got them for the day that you do have sex, okay? Just make sure to check the expiry date whenever you do get around to it.”

What were they, food?

“There's two boxes in there, different sizes. Don't be cocky about it, all right, use what fits properly. Do you think your friend Louis knows how to put them on?”

“Oh my Go-” Harry moaned, reaching around to the back seat and shoving the condoms into his overnight bag. “ _Please_ change the subject.”

“ _Destination on the right,”_ finished the car's navigation system. Michael peered out the window. “Harold. This is a _hotel_. I thought I was driving you to your friend's house?”

“Well,” Harry said, picking his next words carefully. “He doesn't live in Texas, that's why he was staying with us.”

“How can he afford a hotel?!”

“I think his parents or someone like that pay for it,” Harry said, instantly feeling bad for lying. Well, it wasn't really a lie. 'Someone' could easily mean 'work boss'.

“A hotel.” Michael shook his head, but he seemed amused. “Jeez kid, when you do gay, you sure do it right.”

“I'm not _doing gay_.”Unlike Louis, Michael didn't let Harry get away that kind of statement. “Oh, just embrace it, Harry. You'll like it a lot more if you own it.”

“I'll like it a lot more if I own it,” Harry repeated to himself, deep in thought as the elevator made its way up the hotel.

_\-----_

Louis had gone shopping. He'd visited Prada, and come home via a grocery store.

He'd filled the hotel's mini-fridge with a pint of Ben & Jerry's in every flavour they'd had, and gotten room service to bring up thirty cones and an icecream scoop - thinking it would be a funny dinner for him and Harry, thinking he wouldn't mind watching Harry's tongue dart over scoop after scoop.

It had been many years since Louis had seen _Lolita_ , but he was pretty sure he was knee-deep in that shit. Harry was sixteen, not exactly a child, but still; he was half Louis' age.

The knock on the hotel door made Louis anxious, but when he saw Harry's dimpled smile all his worries disappeared.

Not long after, they were sitting in a blanket fort, happily licking icecream cones. Louis had also gotten room service to bring up spare sheets to save them having to remake the bed. They'd built a small fort in front of the minifridge so they could eat straight out of it.

Harry's spirits seemed to have lifted tenfold after his short trip. He sat, smiling at Louis for so long that his cone started to melt, quickly leaving three chocolate-brown drips on his pants.

Louis wiped it off with his finger, showing Harry. “Careful. I'm the one who has to wash your clothes.”

Harry leaned forward, sucking the icecream off Louis' finger, mouth surprisingly tight. Almost instinctively, Louis let out a quiet little moan, pushing his finger in deeper. Harry spluttered, and Louis quickly pulled his finger out, trying to ignore the wet that now covered it completely.

Harry looked at Louis for a minute, but he let it slide, opening the fridge again.“I can't eat any more!” Louis protested. “Can't we take a break? I got you a present.”

Harry wiped his mouth, pink lips tugging against the back of his hand. Louis desperately wanted to kiss him, feel his lips while they were still cold from the icecream.

“Show me, then!” Harry said.

Louis stepped out of the fort, Harry emerging after him. Louis passed Harry the shiny black box from Prada.

Harry opened it, pulled out the pale blue sweater and lifted it up. “More clothes?... I mean, it's really cool, thanks,” he said, clearly trying to be nice.

“Oh, it was stupid,” Louis said, embarrassed. He hadn't properly thought the gift out really, his brain just took him to the shop on impulse.

“No, it's not!” Harry said.

“When I was about your age,” (Louis cringed inwardly, feeling guilt rise up inside him at his own mentioning of their age difference), “I saved up my money for a whole year, and finally I could afford my own Prada sweater. It was the first nice piece of clothing I owned. I think it changed my life.”

Harry held it up against himself, pretending to strike a pose. “Do you think the blue will bring out my eyes on TV?” he joked.

“Mm, this one's not for the show. I just thought you could wear it, you know, when we're hanging out together. Just you and me,” Louis finished feebly, feeling utterly stupid. He hadn't articulated that thought until right then and there.

“Oh, Louis!” Harry squealed. “That's _so cool!_ ” He pulled off his own sweater – a simple grey Ralph Lauren cable-knit Louis had put him in – and put the new sweater on. “It's so soft!” he called over his shoulder as he strode over to his duffel bag, brazenly stuffing his other sweater into the bag.

“Harry!” Louis scolded, appalled. “What are you doing? You don't treat clothes like that.”

Harry turned around, not having to react out loud because it written on his face: _You're ridiculous_. “Put on the TV or something. I'm sorting your bag out.” Louis grabbed a handful of coat hangers

from the small closet.

He heard Harry flick through the channels for a bit, settling on a movie. They chatted about nothing while Louis hung Harry's clothes.

Louis sighed when he found a shirt, realising he'd probably have an evening of ironing ahead of him too. He put it aside and turned back to the bag.

Plain as day, there was a box of condoms in Harry's bag. No – _two_ boxes. Louis wasn't really sure why he felt like his whole body had been plunged into ice. “Er, Harry?” he called out, half-hoping he wouldn't answer.

“Yeah?” “Come here.”

Harry bounced off the bed to stand by Louis. He followed Louis' gaze to the open bag and let out a small gasp, grabbing both boxes and shoving them under his shirt.

“Don't stretch the new jumper!” Louis warned, watching Harry slowly take his arm out again. Harry sandwiched the boxes in between his hands, but it was far too late to hide what was written on the packaging. “Look, Harry,” Louis started, not really knowing what to say.

“I didn't buy them! I-”“You're not gay, I _know_.” Louis sighed.

“No, I was just going to say I got them from Michael. He bought them without asking me, he made me take them. I don't want to use them.”

“Oh! Oh.” Louis laughed, relieved. And a little disappointed.

Harry then said something so fast that Louis couldn't understand him.

“Pardon?”

Harry spoke again, more clearly. “I think Michael thinks I _am_ gay.”

“Ah. Does he.”

“I'm not.”

“You keep saying.”

Harry tossed the condoms back into his bag, finishing the conversation. “Forget about my clothes, come watch TV.”

Louis gladly followed him to the bed where they sat next to each other. The movie was finishing though. Harry turned the volume all the way down and turned to face Louis.

“I really like this present, Louis.” Harry shrugged a little to indicate the sweater. “It was really thoughtful.”

“I think it was kind of dumb,” Louis admitted. “But, you know. Me and clothes.”

“I didn't have time to get you anything in Austin. But I'd really like to give you something back. Because you're a good friend.”

“Oh, that's all right! Don't worry.”

“No, I really want to, you know.” Harry bit his lip.

“Want to...?”

It seemed to be Harry's new favourite word: “Blowjobs.”

“Maybe not tonight, hey? I don't want you crying again.”

“I'll cry if I _don't_ get to do it,” Harry said, pouting in a way he surely didn't realise was suggestive.

Louis took too long to think of a convincing counter-argument. Harry had already gotten up and turned all the lights off, leaving them lit up by the silently flickering TV.

Harry sat back down in front of Louis and kissed him – god, he'd gotten bold – Harry's tongue still tasted like ice cream.

“It's okay if we just kiss,” Louis told him.“Is it okay if we do more?” Harry said, nuzzling his nose against Louis' cheek. “Fuck _\- yes_.” This time, Harry didn't tell him off for swearing.

“Um, do you want to lie down, or should I kneel down like in that video-”

Louis double-checked; “ _You_ want to give me a blowjob? Not the other way around?”

“Yes, because-” Harry's face fell. “Ooh. Is that gayer than the other way around?”

Louis stopped himself from laughing, but he couldn't help but smile. “I don't know, Harry,” he said honestly.

“Maybe I'll be gay just for tonight then!” Harry squeaked. He pounced on Louis, pushing him back onto the bed and lying on top of him, kissing him again.

What had Harry's uncles _said_ to him?

They kissed for a while longer. Harry's kisses were wet, not necessarily in a bad way, and Louis could only imagine what his blowjobs would be like.

He didn't have to imagine, though, as Harry rolled off him and turned right around himself, sitting by Louis' hip.

“You don't have to,” Louis reminded him. “I don't mind just watching a movie instead.” “Or, you can watch me doing...” Harry gestured at Louis' crotch.“Okay, yes.” Louis heard himself laughing weakly, nervous. And – what was that? He took control in these situations. Louis didn't get nervous. He didn't get flustered.

Louis felt his stomach jump as Harry put his hands on Louis' sweatpants – a wise clothing choice there – and began to pull them down. Harry stopped them somewhere around Louis' shins, but Louis wriggled and kicked them off completely.

Harry paused, assessing. “You have nice legs,” he commented, surprisingly calm as he ran a hand up Louis' thigh. “Nicer than those models in New York City, even.”

What was Harry _saying_?

“Um. Will you take your underpants off?” Harry asked Louis after some increasingly heated kissing, sounding a bit less calm. Louis was glad. He needed Harry to match his nerves, because he'd never felt like this around someone before.

Louis reached for Harry's hands first, kissing his knuckles. “You can stop at any time, okay?” “I know,” Harry agreed.Louis slid his underwear off and lay naked on the bed. He'd never felt more exposed in his life.

“You're not going to film this, are you?” Harry asked. “Wait, no, that's a stupid question, never mind. I trust you, Louis. Completely,” he said as he wrapped a hand around Louis' erection, ducking his head down close.

“Okay,” Harry said. Louis could feel each syllable being exhaled against his shaft. Harry bit his lip, then released it. He closed the tiny space between him and Louis, his lips making contact with with the head of Louis' cock and he just paused there for a second, in a slack sort of kiss. He lifted his head, and again said, “Okay”. He darted out a wet tongue, giving Louis an experimental lick. “Oh, wow,” Harry said, then gave a bigger lick. He let out a sigh, breath cold against the wet where his tongue had just been. Harry's eyes flicked up, sultry under long lashes, meeting Louis' gaze.

“ _Tu te moques de moi?_ ” Louis gasped, focusing all he had on not shoving himself right in between Harry's lips.

Harry was teasing. And he had no idea he was doing it.

Harry licked his lips – _fuck_ – and wrapped his whole mouth around just the head of Louis' cock, giving it a firm suck, his tongue darting over Louis' small slit. Louis placed one of his hands over his stomach, reminding himself to not thrust up into Harry's mouth.

Harry's mouth slowly glided down, so warm and wet. He got about halfway before making a small choking sound and sitting right back up again, coughing.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his lips.“No,” Louis exhaled. “You're really good.” “In French.” Harry whispered.“What?”

“Say it in French.”“ _Tu es très bon?_ ” Louis choked out.

That seemed to be all the encouragement Harry needed – he leant back down again, took Louis in his mouth. He began bobbing his head up and down. Louis pressed on his stomach harder. This was _insane_.

Every now and again Harry's teeth would knock against him for a second. If it were anyone else Louis would have swatted at their face, told them to _watch it_ , but there was something so desperately enthusiastic about the way Harry was moving that allowed him to get away with it. It was kind of hot.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis moaned, then added as an experiment, “Mon dieu, oui, bon garçon, oui...” just spurting out absolute nonsense because his brain wasn't working properly any more, but it worked fine on Harry; he sucked harder, pushed his mouth down further, spluttering again but not moving his mouth off this time.

Louis moved his hands – they were shaking - to Harry's head, pushing his curls back. Without stopping, Harry looked up at him, eyes wild, spit running down his chin.

Louis watched Harry's pink lips glide up and down his cock, watching himself disappear and reappear from the boy's mouth. Harry started to move his tongue more, Louis could feel the texture on the underside of his shaft, “Yes - oui, oui, oui.” Louis felt Harry's spit slide down, slowly tracking a path across his balls. It tickled just a little, and he wiped at them quickly – but Harry noticed and pushed Louis' hand away, using his own hand to sort of just rub aimlessly at them – he had no idea what he was doing really, it didn't make sense that it felt so good.

“ _Tu es le meilleur!_ ” Louis moaned, but Harry deserved to understand that one, really. “You are the _best_ at this, Harry.”

Harry did lift his head off Louis then, a strand of spit bridging the space between his lips and Louis' cock. “I am?” he asked, pleased as punch.

“Yes!” Louis gasped.“It's just – my jaw's a bit tired.”

“Oh, of course, of course, come here baby,” Louis said, pulling Harry to lie down beside him – mostly because he didn't have the composure to sit himself up. Louis kissed Harry, who's mouth was absolutely slick with spit.

Louis moved on top of him, feeling cold air move against his cock as it swayed between his legs. “Is this okay? I'm not hurting you?” he checked.

“It's fine,” Harry said breathlessly.

Louis pulled Harry's new blue sweater off, his t-shirt too, and leant over him, kissing his lips more, then down his neck, sucking on his collarbone, circling Harry's nipple with tongue. He felt Harry hold his cock again, then with his other hand too – _mon dieu,_ Harry was using both hands to jerk him off.

Louis moaned nonsense vowels, having completely lost both his languages. His arms and legs started to tremble, threatening to stop supporting his weight – and that wasn't right, it shouldn't be happening so soon – he summoned enough self-control to push himself off Harry and lay back down next to him on the bed.

“Can I keep going?” Harry asked.Louis stared at him in disbelief, and Harry just stared back, not moving.

“ _Yes_ Harry, of course, please, yes, yes.” His words turned into a loud cry as Harry's mouth was on his cock again. Louis propped himself up on his elbows, wanting to watch every last second of it.

What Harry lacked in expertise, he completely made up for in enthusiasm. He was making little happy hums, but they soon became louder and more frequent, Harry was moaning and gasping around Louis' cock with an almost alarming passion. Suddenly a tremble shook right through Harry's body and Louis' cock dropped out of Harry's mouth. Harry didn't move, just stayed there with his mouth open.

“Did you - did you just _come?_ ” Louis cried, utterly incredulous, so loud that they would probably hear him in the next room over.

Harry snuck a hand into his pants, checking. He nodded sheepishly.

Louis slid his elbows down and let his head hit the pillow. He instantly regretted that, because he missed seeing Harry pick his cock up again, returning it to his mouth. Louis couldn't get the thought out of his head; this sixteen year old boy, chest flushed, mouth absolutely covered in spit, happily swallowing down Louis' precome as he sat in the wet mess he'd created in his pants without even being touched. _Merde_ , Louis wasn't going to last much longer.

Louis put his hands on Harry's cheeks but Harry barely seemed to notice, just kept furiously bobbing up and down. “Harry, Harry, stop,” Louis said, pulling a little harder with his hands, “Harry, I'm going to come, stop Harry,” Louis didn't want to come in the poor boy's mouth -

Harry made a firm grunt of annoyance, dismissing Louis, and slid his hands under Louis' bare ass so he couldn't be pulled away. He then dug his fingers right into the flesh of Louis' ass and positively _pulled_ himself down. Harry made a sort of cry in shock, muffled by Louis' cock, but he was determined – Louis felt himself bump against the back of Harry's throat, and that was it, that was absolutely _it._

“Harry _move_ , I'm coming!” Louis shouted, but it was too late, he came right inside Harry's mouth. Harry finally did pull back, but not far enough, not fast enough; all he'd done was cause the second half of Louis' load to shoot out all over Harry's lips and chin.

Louis regained his breath as he stared at Harry, who sat there, mouth open, completely dumbfounded – Louis could see a small pool of come on Harry's tongue too. Ever so slowly, Harry's face broke out into an enormous smile.

Louis lunged at him, pushing him over to lie across the bed sideways, and kissed him, licking up the come off his lips and chin, passing it back and fourth between their tongues, both swallowing it down.

“ _Thank you_ , Harry,” Louis said, those words falling completely short of what he wanted to convey.

_"Pas de problème,"_ Harry said, getting the pronunciation almost completely correct. Where'd he learned that?

“Did you want a shower or something?” Louis asked – at this point Harry could have asked for a pet unicorn and Louis would have obliged.

“I'm too exhausted,” Harry admitted.

“Good, me too.” Louis laughed. He did go to the bathroom, just to get a wet washcloth. When he came back, Harry had gotten under the covers. Louis gently wiped off Harry's mouth then passed him the cloth. Harry took it, confused. Louis gave a pointed look in the direction of Harry's crotch, “Remember?”

Harry said, “Oops, yeah,” and wiped himself off.

Louis tossed the cloth away and got under the covers with Harry. Despite how sweaty they both were he pulled Harry in for a hug. He breathed in. Harry's normally clean, sweet smell was now overpowered by fresh sweat – it was delicious.

The TV was still flickering, but neither of them had the energy to find the remote and turn it off.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis said, holding Harry's chin between his thumb and index finger. “How are you doing? What are you thinking?”

“M' sleepy,” Harry replied.

“No, come on, talk to me. You've gotta check in. I can't sleep if I'm worrying.”

“All right,” Harry said. “Um...”

Louis saw the pace of Harry's breathing increase. He held him tighter.

“I liked that. A lot. And I'm worried that means that maybe I'm not not-gay. I mean... maybe I'm just a bit gay. A tiny bit.”

“Maybe,” Louis carefully agreed.“Actually, no. I'm definitely not gay. I'm not,” Harry said.

“Okay,” Louis said, and it didn't really matter to him what Harry thought about himself for now. “You're not gay.”

“Well...”“Well?”“Maybe just with you?” Harry asked.“Maybe,” Louis agreed, smiling. “I'm pretty damn gay for you too, you know.” “Good,” Harry said, kissing Louis on the cheek before closing his eyes.Louis closed his eyes too.

 


	6. Chapter 6

There was only one word to describe it: _pleasure_. It was the absolute best feeling, better than eating when you're starving, better than a back massage, better than jumping into a cold pool on a hot day. It was all skin and heat and movement, friction and passion and flesh, urgency and sweat and satisfaction, complete and utterly sinful _bliss_.

Harry had dreamed this dream a hundred times, but it was always just hands, stomach, lips. This was the first time there'd been a face.

_Louis_.

Harry's own moan woke him up. He turned to check on Louis lying in the bed next to him – thankfully a consistently heavy sleeper – feeling that uncomfortable warm wetness in his pajama pants as he moved.

Harry could count on one hand the number of times he'd woken up next to Louis, but it felt more familiar than waking up alone in his bedroom in the house he'd lived in for his whole life. He thought he should feel guilty, dreaming those kind of things about someone then having to look straight at them immediately afterwards, but waking up next to Louis just felt so right, like it was exactly where Harry was meant to be.

Harry never had a friend like Louis, an adult who treated Harry like an equal. Everyone else seemed to have paused on their attitudes a few years ago, still treating Harry like he was a young boy. Louis was the first grown up to treat Harry like he was an adult too.

Louis had seen the whole world, basically, he could speak two languages – and a little bit of Italian, too, and he knew all sorts of things. Every smirk or wink Louis shot in Harry's way made him feel like he was being let in on a brilliant little secret. The rest of the adults treated Harry like things went right over his head, but Louis gave Harry more credit than that.

Louis was the one person who asked Harry what he thought, instead of telling him what _to_ think. Harry was glad God had brought a friend like Louis into his life.

That's all they were though – friends.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy from sweating the night before (and maybe from his impassioned dreaming, too). He carefully got out of bed without stirring Louis, getting into the shower to wash his hair – and the small mess he'd made in his pants.

Steadily breathing in the steam from the hot shower, Harry cast his mind back to the previous evening's activities. It was pretty bad to do that stuff with someone who was only a friend. You're supposed to give your body to the person you fall in love with, not just the first person who comes along. You're not any good if you just give yourself to anyone – Harry had learnt that in youth group. The teacher had showed them how a sticker will stick to one person easily, but if you take it off and stick it to the next person, well... by the third or fourth person, stickers don't really stick any more.

 

Harry didn't really _feel_ like a un-sticky sticker, though. He didn't feel cheap, or like what he had done was wrong.

But if he wasn't – well, a slut - then he was something else, and that option was even worse. If Harry had kissed Louis out of _love_ , well - that would just be the end of everything, because that would be gay. And Harry wasn't gay. He couldn't be.

Of course he wasn't. He went to church. He'd played football at school. He didn't like shopping.

Then again, he'd never even kissed a girl. And now he'd done that – _way_ more than that – with a boy.

With a man.

Stepping out of the shower, Harry towelled himself off. He put on a fresh pair of underwear and socks but nothing else; he'd wait for Louis to choose an outfit for him. Yes – _Louis_ was the gay one, _he_ was the one who could worry about clothes.

Harry wanted to get out, go for a walk to clear his head, but he couldn't. Outside this hotel room was Dallas, and he was supposed to be in Austin.

Was God testing him? He was about to embark on a nationwide journey in the public eye, having to be a shining example of a good Christian. Why was he being tested? Why _now_?

Had he failed?

In the past week and a half he'd had four alcoholic drinks, he'd sworn, he'd lied to his parents, disobeyed them, looked at porn, touched himself, kissed a guy, and touched a guy's – well, you know, his _thing_ ,...

Yeah. Harry had failed.

Harry got back into bed, pulling up the covers to hide his scantily dressed body. Louis stirred in the beside him, yawning as he woke up. He smiled at Harry, and brought a hand over to play with his wet curls for a moment, before leaning in to bring his lips close to Harry's.

“Can we – can we like, be only friends right now?” Harry stopped him awkwardly.

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Louis said softly, rolling away from Harry to lie on his back.

The space between them suddenly felt enormous. “Wait - I mean, like... you can still _hug_ me.”

Louis laughed and outstretched his arms. “All right, come here then.”

Harry moved himself into the embrace. Louis felt warm and soft and strong, but Harry couldn't relax into him.

"Are you okay?” Louis asked.“Yeah. Maybe. I don't know. I wish I'd packed my bible.”

“Some hotels have them.... definitely here in Texas, I'm sure. Check the drawer.” Louis loosened his arms so Harry could look.

Sure enough, a red leather King James was lying in the drawer of the dresser. Harry took it out and opened it. He flicked through it for a few minutes, no verses really catching his eye.

He sighed, closing it.

“Didn't find what you were looking for in there?” Louis asked.

“No.”

Louis gave a thoughtful pause. “God's up in the sky, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe not technically up there, but I like to think he's watching down on us. Along with all the people in heaven.”

“Come with me, then.” Louis got out of bed, slipped his bare feet into a pair of shoes. He stood there, shirtless in sweatpants, waiting.

“I can't go anywhere,” Harry reminded him. “If anyone I know sees me back in here Dallas-” “They won't, trust me. _Suis-moi._ ” Louis said, giving Harry an impatient gesture.

Harry did trust him. He put on his new blue sweater over his pajamas, following him out of the hotel room. Louis took him out in the corridor, but not to the elevator – they paced along their floor in a loop, Louis' eyes on watch for something.

“ _Et voilà!”_ Louis pulled Harry through a very plain door that Harry probably wouldn’t have even noticed by himself. The interior wasn't as nice as the hallway they'd just been in. Louis did stop in front of an elevator here, the doors opening straight away. “Service elevator, you know?”

Harry had never been in an elevator quite so big. There was a keyhole by the buttons. Louis got his wallet out of his sweatpants, took out a couple sewing needles, and actually _picked the lock_ before selecting a floor _._ Harry almost told Louis off, but he kind of wanted to learn how to do that himself, so he let it go for now.

The elevator rose and after a moment the doors opened. Greeted with sunlight, Harry blinked in surprise. Louis grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him out to the edge of the hotel's rooftop.

Harry had thought all hotels roofs were like in the movies – a big swimming pool, people in sunglasses lying on banana lounges. This wasn't so luxurious – beneath Harry's feet was gravel, and there was no pool, just a lot of pipes and an airconditioning unit bigger than Harry's whole bedroom. Still, the morning sun was bright and the 360-degree view of Dallas, from that high up, was nice – not as cool as the view they'd had of New York City, but nice nonetheless.

“Now you're closer to God, _oui?_ ” Louis said, pleased with his own idea.

Harry threw himself into Louis' arms, grateful. His head automatically moved to kiss Louis, but he tucked his chin down again just in time. “This is so cool, thank you.” Harry felt a lot better about the lock-picking too, surely it wasn't so bad to do it if you were just trying to get closer to God. “Do you want to pray with me?”

“Mm-mm,” Louis dismissed. “You take as long as you need, though. I'm going to work on my tan.”

Harry focused his gaze at the clouds in the sky, trying to ignore the sound of Louis pulling off his sweatpants.

Harry wanted to stop thinking, stop feeling, just let his mind be clear so he could listen to God, but it was useless. His mind was consumed with anxiety, fear, guilt. So much had happened since getting chosen for Modern Missionary.

What would his parents think, his friends think, his pastor think? He was letting all of them down.

Harry needed something, an epiphany, a sign, anything – but nothing came. It was silent on that rooftop, save for the hums and honks of the cars on the streets below them.

He pressed his hands together harder, closed his eyes tighter, almost sweating with how hard he was concentrating. Why wasn't God answering him?

Did God hate him now?

The books Louis had bought him in New York didn't seem to think so. They said that God loves every single person, regardless of who they in turn chose to love.

_Not that it matters, because I'm not gay,_ Harry desperately whispered to himself, but those words didn't sound as sure as they had a week ago.

If his parents knew what Harry had done with Louis, they'd kick him out of home, for sure. They'd probably pull him out of the TV show too – but that's the thing, he _was_ doing the TV show, and he wouldn't be living under his parents' roof for four months. He didn't have to follow their rules.

He was getting paid for doing the show. Quite a lot of money. His parents had said they were putting it into a college fund and Harry hadn't bothered to think about what that meant exactly. Was it technically his parents money, then? Did he have to ask them to use it? He was the one earning it, not them.

But no, no, that was so stupid. They was his _parents._ They were good Christian people and good parents and they knew what was best for Harry. They'd never done him wrong yet.

Well, they'd made his uncle Paul lie about having a boyfriend. And that wasn't fair, at all – Paul was clearly unhappy about the situation, and Harry finally acknowledging Michael as an uncle, as a member of their family, seemed to have made both Paul and Michael's day - if not year.

Harry's parents had taught him to love everyone, just like God does. Harry _knew_ it didn't say anywhere in the bible that there was an exception to that rule, that you don't have to love gay people.

That meant that Harry's parents were the ones who'd made the exception.

They definitely had, too; they weren't at all nice to Michael, and they hadn't been fully nice to Louis once they'd found out he was gay either.

It was really easy when Harry was with Louis, eating and laughing in a blanket fort, or falling asleep with their bodies close together... or when they were kissing, too. Harry's mind was clear then, because it felt so _right_ that it couldn't possibly be wrong.

If he wasn't getting answers up here, he'd go back to where he did feel like he understood things at least a little bit, Harry decided. He walked over to where Louis was lying, his sweatpants laid out to protect his bare back from the gravel below.

Louis' eyes were still shut, so Harry stepped one foot over him, dropping to his knees to straddle Louis' hips.

“ _Salut!_ ” Louis said, opening his eyes in surprise. “Oh my, 'Arry.”“Well, I can't lie down on the ground _next_ to you, I'd get this lovely jumper dirty. And it was such a thoughtful gift!” Harry explained.

Harry felt Louis' body shake gently in laughter between his thighs. “Very well. I can appreciate that.”

Harry unconsciously set his hands on Louis' stomach, but he was suddenly very aware of the touch because Louis' skin was so _warm_ underneath his hands, as Louis had been basking in the sun for at least half an hour. Harry slid his hands up, really just out of curiosity, exploring the way he could feel Louis' breath hitch in his chest, the way his nipples hardened between Harry's fingers. Harry gave in to his desire to kiss him, leaning down, lips meeting in lust and love and need, Harry's hands pressing firmly against Louis' chest, massaging his nipples....

Louis turned his head out of the kiss, grabbing both of Harry's wrists and pulling them off his chest, pushing Harry to sit back up. “Shit, 'Arry, _shit_ , stop.”

That – that _hurt_ , the swearing and the rejection all at once. Harry shot up, clumsily kicking Louis on accident as he walked away.

“Hey, _attends-moi_ , wait-” Louis called after him, pulling on his pants then running a couple of paces until he caught up with Harry, grabbing hold of Harry's wrists once again. “I'm sorry _mon petit_ , don't be cross.”

“Forget it,” Harry said, pulling his arms away.

“Oh, 'Arry,” Louis said uncomfortably, wringing his own hands together. “We just can't do it in public, if anyone came up here and saw...”

“There hasn't been any photographers back here in Texas,” Harry reminded Louis.

“No, it's not that. I think I could.. ah, I don't know it in English. _Arrêté_ , what's the word?”

Harry stared at Louis, not sure what he was on about.

Louis pressed two fingers to his temple, half-hiding his face behind his hand. “You're _young_ , Harry, I don't know what the law is.”

“Oh, sh-” Harry almost caught himself before he swore, but the cogs in his brain were turning over and he couldn't not say it; “Shit.”

“Mm.” Louis nodded, a tight grimace on his face.“I think it's seventeen,” Harry said in a hushed voice.

Back in the hotel room, Louis called a cab to take Harry home. Harry wanted to stay but Louis wouldn't let him, reminding him that he only had a few more nights with his parents before he was off on tour, away for months.

“Will your parents get suspicious about the cab?” Louis asked.

Harry hated to admit it, but: “I'll tell them Michael's dropping me off. I don't think they'll want to come out and say hi to him, so they won't even see what car it is.”

\-----

Filming of Harry's background story was exhausting. Louis couldn't so much as blink near Harry or a member of the crew without one of the social media strategists jumping over and saying, “Do that again, I'll Instagram it!!”

Back in Paris, everyone was too humble (or was it too proud?) to self-promote like that. Louis was used to being invisible when he was dressing someone on set. Here, he was not only noticed, but his actions were documented. Louis had, in all seriousness, asked Harry what Instagram was – Harry had laughed at Louis like he was joking. Louis made a mental note to figure it out later – he'd been asked to hold up two different belts at once, pretending to decide between them, and at the last minute Harry had jumped into the shot and stuck his tongue out as if he hated them both. It was probably a very cute picture of the two of them.

One of the social media girls had asked Louis for his Twitter handle, and he spelled it out to her without thinking. Over the course of the day Louis checked every few hours, and his follower count steadily rose. There'd definitely be things on there “not conducive” to the _Modern Missionary_ ethos, but Louis couldn't remember what his password was, and his twitter stayed public.

They'd spent the morning shooting Harry and his family at home. There were oversize trailers on the street, and maybe that saying was true, 'Everything's bigger in Texas', because they were _huge_. Louis glanced over at Harry for just a second, flicking his eyes down – and yeah, that saying was true.

Louis called Harry over to the trailer to dress him first, but Harry's father Robin followed them inside. Louis was indignant for just a moment, quickly realising that his indignation was misplaced; Robin's homophobia aside, he actually _shouldn't_ trust Louis, considering he'd secretly had Harry in his hotel room overnight.

Louis really preferred to physically dress people himself – he didn't trust anyone to not fasten a belt too tight or do up one too many buttons. He certainly wasn't going to try to lay a hand on Harry though, not with Robin's steely gaze following Louis around the room. He was quite sure

Robin wouldn't appreciate Louis tucking a shirt into the back of his suit pants, either.

He left Harry and his father to it, knocking on the door to the other trailer where Harry's sister and mother were. Gemma blushed awkwardly, looking away, and Anne eyed him intently as if there were words on the tip of her tongue. Frustrated, Louis wrangled a makeup artist in; “Help Gemma with her skirt, please, she's got it up way too high.”

Louis was a perfectionist, and whilst the Styles family looked nice, they didn't look _perfect_ \- it was just one scene though, and Louis couldn't stand how badly his guilt burned being around Harry's parents. He escaped out further down the street, bumming a cigarette off one of the roadies. No sooner than he'd lit up did Harry's mom appear, shooting a look of horror at the cigarette in his hand, and saying, “They want you to check what we're wearing against how they're filming the kitchen.”

Louis sucked a second and final drag and apologetically handed the half-smoked cigarette back to the roadie, who shrugged and finished it for him.

It was a little easier on-set in the kitchen with so many people around, Louis was able to re-tie Robin's tie and move Gemma's hair so it wasn't hiding her necklace. The Styles family had been both incredibly easy and incredibly boring to shop for. Jeremy had wanted them all-American, wholesome, in saccharine-sweet matching Sunday dress.

Louis stepped back, evaluating his work. They were quite a beautiful family, really, but they _looked_ like a family and Louis felt almost jealous. He liked feeling like Harry was _his_ , not theirs.

“We'll change your shirt, Harry. You're blending in too much,” Louis dictated.

“Quickly,” Jeremy said, tapping his clipboard. “We're on a tight schedule.” Jeremy was producing and directing, which seemed over-confident.

_Then again, God's probably told him it's his calling,_ Louis laughed to himself, leaving the house with Harry in tow.

Away from Harry's family, and in a hurry, Louis did help Harry with the new shirt, doing up the buttons and tucking it into -

No sooner than Louis realised, Harry started giggling – the little _shit_ wasn't wearing any underwear beneath his pants. Louis drew his hands out, but slowly, letting them linger. Harry blushed a little, shyly tugging at his own hair, inadvertently messing it up.

“ _Arrête!_ Harry!” Louis admonished, calling over the woman in charge of hair.

She sighed exasperatedly, but when Harry brought limp hands up beneath his chin and whined like a guilty puppy, she couldn't help but laugh. “Okay, let's fix this up, don't go touching it again!”

Louis daydreamed for a moment, snapping back to reality when he saw the hairdresser lightly stroking Harry's cheek with her fingertips. Purely out of reflex, Louis slapped her hand away. “Don't.”.

She looked at him in surprise, and – _merde_ – she'd only been brushing away a stray eyelash.

“Don't... let his makeup fall on that shirt,” Louis said gruffly, walking off quickly and heading straight back outside.

When they'd wrapped the home scenes, Anne started pulling platter after platter out of her fridge. Louis was informed that she'd refused to let craft services inside her house, preferring to cook herself. Which was very generous, but the food looked awfully fattening. Louis quietly left, hiding out in the trailer alone and steam-ironing anything that had been worn. A knock at the door interrupted him – Harry entered, tossing Louis an apple.

“You don't like southern food,” Harry commented.“ _Merci._ Very thoughtful,” Louis said.Harry stepped in and gave Louis a firm hug, looking up at him but not speaking. Louis kissed his forehead and sighed heavily. “You better get back inside, mon petit.”

In the late afternoon, the crew left Harry's family and went to shoot at Harry's school. He'd already completed high school and had to pretend that the current students were his own classmates, but he actually wasn't half a bad actor, interacting very naturally with them. Louis quite enjoyed the hours spent there – or maybe he was just happy to be away from Harry's parents again.

Jeremy lead the entire room in a prayer together when they'd wrapped for the day, thanking God for a successful afternoon. Louis wouldn't have minded, except that Jeremy didn't thank _any_ of the crew. God wasn't the one who'd spent a good half hour carrying heavy lights and cameras down the school's long hallway, God wasn't the one who'd had to style the hair of twenty schoolchildren in less than an hour.

Louis got back to the hotel around nine. He didn't stop off at his room but headed straight to the bar instead, where he stayed for a few hours.

At one point a giggly, peroxide-blonde woman approached him, waving her phone at him to show him a picture of himself from earlier that day. “This is you, right? Louis Tomlinson, you're doing wardrobe for some new show? I mean, I know it's you, you're in the same clothes.”

“Lou- _ie,_ ” He snapped, no longer sober enough to care about politeness. “Yes, that's me.”

“There's been pictures of you all over twitter today, you know! Shame you're not in the actual show, really.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “I hope they keep posting photos of you, they made my day go by a lot quicker. What's the show about, anyway?”

“Um, a teenager, I guess,” Louis answered, feeling guilt rise up again at that word, _teenager_. He shook the woman's hand in farewell, rising from the bar.

Louis didn't at all approve of the values that the TV show was based on, or the values that Harry's parents were trying to instil in him, but was Louis himself any better an influence? He pulled out his phone before he lost reception in the elevator and checked, confirming the worst; while they were in Texas, Harry was a year too young for Louis to touch.

The walk from elevator to his hotel room might not have been without a couple of trips over his own feet. Opening the door – swiping the keypass took more than just one try – Louis entered to see, completely inexplicably, _Harry._ He was crouched right in the middle of Louis' bed on all fours, headphones in his ears and phone in his hand. He must have been playing a game, as his tongue was poked out in concentration.

“ _C'est quoi ce bordel?_ ” Louis slurred, his brain trying to catch up with the image his eyes were sending back. Harry didn't seem to hear him over the headphones.

Harry's ass was _salacious_ , jeans stretched taut over it, practically sticking up in the air, _begging_. Louis kicked off his shoes and strode over to stand right by the bed behind Harry, placing his hands on each side of the boy's hips. Harry gave a small jerk in surprise, but Louis kept his hands firm, not allowing him to move from the position he was in.

“Hi,” Harry sung over his shoulder, biting his lip self-consciously as he pulled out his headphones. “I snuck out of home when my parents fell asleep. I was starting to think you weren't coming back here.”

Louis just breathed for a moment, wishing he were either too sober to have the nerve to move, or too drunk for it to be okay to _make_ a move, but he was neither; he was just very tipsy, that level where you're either about to get really horny or really tired. Harry on his knees and elbows seemed to have unintentionally decided for Louis which way he was headed.

Louis gripped Harry's hips tighter, fingers pushing at the denim as if he could rip through and touch skin. He yanked Harry back, closing the gap between the two of them. Almost experimentally, he ground his hips hard against Harry's ass, and the feeling was _electric_. Louis' heart was burning; he wanted all of this, he wanted _Harry_.

Louis moved his hands up to Harry's chest, pulling him upright so his back was held in close against Louis. Containing Harry with his elbows, he plucked Harry's phone and headphones from his hand, tossing them to the floor.

Louis ran his nose up Harry's neck, breathing in his smell – he'd bought him Chanel's Allure back in New York, and for Louis the scent had quickly become synonymous with this brunet teen.

Louis let his hands move over Harry's chest, down to his stomach, sneaking under his shirt and back up again to his nipples, listening to Harry's soft gasps as he played with them, then flattening his hands again to pull Harry even closer against him.

Harry let out a high hum and his head fell back onto Louis' shoulder. His exposed neck was irresistible. Louis ran lips and tongue across it, leaving kiss after kiss. He bared his teeth, intending to just give Harry a gentle nibble, but the way Harry reacted - moaning and pushing his ass back against Louis' crotch - was utterly unwholesome, so Louis bit harder, tugging at the skin of Harry's neck. He knew leaving even a small mark on Harry's neck was incredibly foolish, but that somehow made it even hotter, and he sank his teeth down harder until Harry gave a small yelp – Louis soothed the spot with a gentle kiss and Harry let out a shuddering breath.

Louis paused, letting the wise part of his brain take over from the alcohol for just a minute. “You all right, Harry?”

Harry nodded, and spoke breathlessly. “Yeah.”“Did you want to stop? Watch TV or get room service or something?”

Harry's quiet “No,” was all the approval Louis needed.

Louis unbuttoned Harry's jeans, tugging them down to where his knees met the bed. Louis moved one arm to Harry's chest again, and slid the other down the back of his underwear, palm gliding over the soft skin of Harry's cheeks. He moved his hand to the middle, feeling Harry's muscles tense up in surprise.

“You can tell me to stop,” Louis whispered.But Harry shook his head and _arched his back,_ pushing his behind against Louis' hand. “Tell me to stop,” Louis repeated, now more of a request than an offer.“No, don't,” Harry whispered back. “I need you, Louis.”

Louis slowly moved his fingers, stroking closer and closer until he found Harry's hole, which felt _tiny_ beneath his fingertip. He traced a small circle around Harry's rim. God, he must be so _tight,_ Louis lightly moved his finger across -

Harry let out a strangled “ _Ah!_ ” and went weak. Louis found himself reflexively tightening his hold around Harry's chest to keep him upright.

“Too much?” he checked.

Harry paused, turning around on his knees to face Louis. “No,” he decided. “But no more than just that, yeah?”

“Of course,” Louis said.

Harry moved his hands onto Louis' hips then and then tilted his head up to kiss him. Louis couldn't resist slipping both hands down Harry's underwear again, cupping his ass for a moment.

Without stopping the kiss, Harry began to unbutton Louis' pants, pulling them low enough down Louis' thighs that they fell to the floor. Harry put a single finger under the elastic at the front of Louis' underwear and pulled him closer. Louis' knees dug in against the mattress, his hips meeting Harry's, two hard cocks pressing right against each other through soft cotton.

It was taking a lot of effort to concentrate on the kiss – apparently for Harry, too, as he pulled back and just stared into Louis' eyes, panting.

Louis slid his fingers between Harry's cheeks again, softly tickling his hole, feeling it reflexively tighten again. Harry let his head drop, moaning, and bit down against Louis' collarbone. He rocked his hips a few times, pushing his cock against Louis' and then pushing himself back against Louis' hand. It wasn't easy for Louis to suppress the natural urge to push his fingertips against Harry's flesh, it was _too_ hard, actually – Louis pulled his hand right out of Harry's underwear. Harry whined, protesting the loss of Louis' touch.

“ _Je suis vraiment désolé,_ ” Louis quickly apologised, rubbing the back of Harry's head.He'd forgotten how much Harry liked hearing his French, though – the boy bit down harder on

Louis' collarbone for a second, then grabbed at Louis' hand again, pulling it back.

“Wait, wait,” Louis pleaded. “I don't want to go too far.”

Harry let go of Louis' hand, looking at him curiously.

Louis laughed, nervous. “You know you're in control here, right? That it's fine if you say you don't want to do something?”

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly.“I've just got to make sure I'm in control of _myself_ too.”

“Right. Okay, yeah.” Harry nodded, moving his legs out from under him to sit on the edge of the bed, jeans still sitting at his knees. Louis sat next to him. He cradled Harry's jaw in his hand, kissing the boy, wanting to drink him up in the most innocent way possible.

Harry's mind, however, seemed to be far from innocent tonight. “You would have done something more, if I'd wanted to, right? I mean, I don't know about that stuff, but I think I guessed...”

Louis stayed quiet.Harry blushed furiously, practically stuttering, “Like, a finger, up my... _you know,_ ” he hissed.

“Whoa,” Louis sighed out, suspecting his own shade of red was catching up to where Harry was at. “Yeah, but only _if_ you'd wanted to do that. It's fine that you don't.”

“Has someone done it to you before?”

“ _Oui,_ ” Louis answered.

“Have you do it to yourself? Up your own...”

“ _Oui_.” These things never seemed like a big deal when you were doing them, but admitting them out loud always sounded positively filthy.

“ _Can_ you?”

Louis wasn't sure what Harry meant, but then -

“Could I watch you do it?” the boy blurted out.

Louis had kind of been waiting for his erection to go down, but it was a lost cause now. “Are you serious, Harry?”

Harry nodded, face pulled into an odd sort of smile – scared and excited all at once.

“Ahh, Harry.” Louis put an arm over Harry's shoulders, bringing him in to a hug. He kissed the top of Harry's head. “I need to think about it.” He felt Harry stiffen slightly so he reassured him, “It's not that I don't want to, I mean, _fuck._ I really, really want to.”

“Shh,” Harry said at Louis' swearing. That standard was a bit rich after the request he'd just made, but Louis let it slide.

Louis squeezed Harry harder. “You should get home before the sun rises. Like Cinderella.”

“That was midnight.” Harry reminded him.

Louis stood, pulling Harry up by the hand and waiting for him to do up his jeans again, then walking him to the door. “I shouldn't go with you, I'm sorry. I wish I could.”

Harry nodded, and Louis could see in his eyes that he fully understood. And what kind of wisdom was that to bestow onto a sixteen-year-old? _We have to be really, really careful with who sees us together, when they see us, what they see us doing..._

Louis brought Harry near to kiss him goodbye, but they just didn't stop, getting more and more heated and pushing up hard against each other, almost ricocheting off the walls behind them as they tried to become one, Harry biting Louis' lower lip and pawing at Louis' crotch, his cock _still_ fully hard, and only pulling back when Louis started pushing up Harry's shirt, practically ripping it off his head, and then suddenly they were both shirtless and stepping out of their pants as they stumbled back to the bed.

Louis pulled Harry on top of him, yet again moving his hands down the back of Harry's ass. Without thinking, he started to push his underwear down. Harry stopped kissing, looking at Louis in surprise, and Louis pulled his arms away quickly, “Sorry, I didn't – sorry-” but Harry just looked at Louis and chewed at his own lip and then took his own underwear right off, almost toppling off the bed in the process, but Louis caught him just in time.

“Yours too,” Harry said.

“Are you sure?” Louis checked.

Harry nodded.

“Are you s-”

“ _Yes!_ ” Harry interrupted impatiently, lifting himself up so Louis could get his own underwear off too.

Harry leant back down on top of Louis and Louis clutched at his back, their bellies pressed together getting wetter and wetter as they thrust their bare cocks against each other. Louis knew his cock was leaking but Harry, _Harry_ got so wet so fast and it was such a fucking turn-on.

It was clumsy and jolting and sometimes Harry pushed his hips down _too_ hard or knocked his teeth against Louis' as their kissing got increasingly fervent, but there was something so brilliantly- brand-new about it. The skill that comes with experience was certainly something, but the knowledge that Louis was the _first and only_ person to ever have Harry like this was something else all together.

Louis ran his hands down Harry's back, letting his short fingernails scratch him just slightly, and Harry shivered. His fingers found Harry's hole straight away, and Louis' wrist almost ached from the effort it took not to add any pressure. He softly trailed his fingers all over, up and down Harry's crack, slow circles around his rim getting smaller and smaller until he tickled right on Harry's hole, that still felt tense and tight, and then Harry gave a final few sharp thrusts and practically _screamed_. Louis should have placed a hand over the boy's mouth to shut him up, but he kept his hands down, still stroking as he felt Harry shoot thin ropes of come all over both their stomachs.

The tiny space between their bellies was slick and hot and Louis' balls were practically _throbbing_ and he had a bare naked brunet on top of him, shivering and catching his breath, but it was so late that it was early again, it was almost five in the morning.

Louis kissed Harry, deliberately firm and much slower than before. After a few minutes he said, “You really should get going, Harry.”

“I know, I know.” Harry sat up, hair sweaty, stomach glazed. “Did you want a quick shower?”

Harry looked down at his stomach, pondered for a second, and then boldly said, “No.” He over to retrieve his shirt and pulled it straight on over the mess he was wearing, giving Louis a sly look.

_Fuck._

Louis closed his eyes and clenched his teeth in frustration. As much as he'd sobered up, he was still a human with a body and that came with desires and if Harry didn't get the fuck out in about three minutes, Louis was going to _wreck_ him.

Harry put on his jeans and shoes, glancing at Louis and letting his eyes drop to Louis' cock – which was pink and hot and covered in Harry's come – and paused, torn.

“Go home, _s'il te plaît,_ ” Louis pleaded, pulling the sheet up to hide himself.

Louis was given the next two days off while Harry returned to Austin for a final stint of coaching. He received a phone call, heart jumping into his throat when it was Harry's mother on the other end, but she was simply calling to invite him to Harry's going-away party, to be held at their church's function room. Louis agreed to come along, silently adding that his attendance would only be possible if he didn't burst into flames upon stepping foot on holy ground. He didn't want to go to the party at all, but it seemed not at all out of the realm of possibility that if Harry didn't see Louis there, he'd sneak out again to see him afterwards, which was far too risky.

\-----

“Um, Michael, can I talk to you about something?” Harry asked once they'd finished dinner. It was really nice to see his uncles again so soon, and they hadn't made any fuss about what Harry had talked about last time. They treated him like he was the same person – and maybe he was still the same person, really. Still, there were some topics you just couldn't broach with a blood relative.

“Oof!” Harry's uncle Paul said, faux-insulted. “I'll be in the lounge with the TV up loud. Don't start on dessert without me.”

Harry heard the sound of the television and then glanced at Michael, who was looking at him expectantly. Harry could feel the heat rising up his neck onto his face. It was so awkward, but he wasn't going to go look at porn again, God had made it clear that doing that only lead to trouble...

“Can I ask you about... some stuff?” Harry stammered.

“Stuff, of course! I love stuff. Got heaps of stuff. Piles of it. All sorts of _stuff_ ,” Michael teased.

Harry completely covered his face in his hands, cringing at himself as he whispered, “Bum stuff?”

“Bum stuff!” Michael let out a strangled yelp. “ _Wow._ All right. Yep. Fire away.”

“Not sex!” Harry quickly assured him, digging his fingernails into his forehead; this was _so awful_. “Just, like-”

“Jesus, Harry, you're going to rip your own face off,” Michael said, pulling at Harry's hands. “Here,” he said, turning his chair around so he was side on to Harry. “You turn round to face the other way too. Better?”

Harry looked at the kitchen wall across from him, Michael almost out of his line of sight. “Yeah, better,” Harry agreed.

“So, what _do_ you know?”“Nothing,” Harry admitted. “I think I want to know, though. Not to do it, of course-”

“Of course not,” Michael said sarcastically, still happy to call Harry's bluff. “All right. Bum stuff, bum stuff... one could – hypothetically, of course - put a finger or two up a bum.”

Harry relaxed a bit, relieved that Michael had quickly caught on to what Harry was getting at. “Does that feel any good?”

“Very much so. It's important to go very slowly and use plenty of lubricant. I'm happy to buy you some, and don't be afraid to ask for it, because it not something you want to be stingy with.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered.

“If it was your bum,” Michael started, pausing as if to challenge Harry for a moment.

“If,” Harry said, not at all firmly.

“If,” Michael agreed, “then you have to relax, okay. Only do it with someone you trust. Ah, and – go to the toilet beforehand, and have a really good shower.”

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered quietly, sinking down into his seat.

“If it was the other way around, make sure your nails are trimmed and clean. You can even put a condom over your fingers, because you really don't want to scratch someone up there, all right? Lots of lubricant, one finger at a time, gently, gently, gently.”

“Okay,” Harry said, concentrating for a moment to commit it to his memory – clean hands, clean bum, short nails, lubricant - it'd be far to dangerous to write this down where someone could find it.

“What else, what else....” Michael hummed. “Have you heard of a prostate?” “Like, prostate cancer?”“Ow! Yes, but no. In terms of sex.”“Not sex!” Harry reminded him.

“Right, right, in terms of uh, how'd you put it, 'butt things'?”

“Bum stuff,” Harry corrected him with a laugh, relieved Michael was good at lightening the mood.

“The prostate's – I think it's technically a gland? I wasn't great at biology. You can sometimes reach that if you – sorry, I mean if _someone hypothetically_ had a finger up someone's bum. Or their own. You sort of push up towards the stomach. Gently, it can be quite a strong sensation. Loads of fun though.... Hm, what else is there... You know, bums,” Michael said, letting the word pop out of his mouth, “can also be licked.”

Harry turned around in his seat again to face him. “Be serious!”

“I am,” Michael said earnestly, a wild smile on his face. “I'm very insulted that you think I'm not taking this incredibly seriously. There's absolutely nothing absurd about this conversation at all.”

Okay, yeah – that dig was fair enough. Harry smiled. “Thank you for being so cool about this.” “No problem, Harry. I'm really glad you feel like you can approach me.”They sat in silence for a moment. “That enough for now?” Michael asked.“Yeah. Thanks,” Harry repeated.

“Great. I need about six fingers of scotch.” Michael rose from the table. He added, half to himself, “Ooh, 'fingers', poor word choice.”

Harry tried to stay quiet, to let the conversation be over, but the words burst out of his mouth. “Licking? Really? With a tongue?”

“Mm-hm.” Michael nodded, dropping ice cubes into a glass.

“Licking someone's butt hole?!” Harry confirmed, incredulous. “Does that feel _any_ good at all?”

Michael shot Harry a wide-eyed look of confirmation. “Absolutely.”

“People actually do that?”

“A lot of people do that. A lot of people _love_ doing that.” Michael said.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then suddenly pulled his own head back, grossed out, because that wasn't a great link to make -

“Oh, God! Not me! Not me! I've never touched your uncle! Never even hugged him!” Michael said, horrified but laughing.

“Great.” Harry grimaced. “Good to know.”“Fancy a little bit of scotch yourself?” Michael said, gently waving the bottle. “I – yeah,” Harry accepted.

\-----

The farewell party was a dry event, which Louis should have predicted. He sipped sparkling water while talking to fellow adults, keeping half an eye out for Harry, who most of the time was over with the other teenagers. Louis got half-drunk off that sight alone, Harry laughing hysterically and tripping over his own feet and trying to throw balloons at his friends. Louis felt that same pain he'd been hit with when he first met Harry. With his green eyes and chocolate brown curls and cupid's bow lips, Harry was almost _too_ gorgeous to look at. The implications of that weighed heavily; clothes were the only thing that had made Louis feel like that before, and he'd made fashion his entire _life_.

Harry came bounding over to Louis. Louis had sent clothes over for the entire Styles family to wear, and his choice for Harry wasn't a clever one as he looked devastatingly beautiful. That was the problem with Harry, really, he looked good in absolutely everything; in v-neck sweaters, in silk shirts, in blazers, dressed up in a suit or dressed down in a loose t-shirt, he looked good in tank tops and he looked good in trench coats and he looked especially, disgustingly, good good _good_ in green, like he was tonight.

“Hi,” Harry said, giving Louis a small nudge.

“Cameras,” Louis reminded him – there were five of them in the large function room, filming for the show, not to mention the social media girls interrupting everyone's conversations with the bright flash of DSLR cameras they barely knew how to use.

“Oh, they're not going to pick up-”

“You'd be surprised what they pick up,” Louis mused, recalling all the times photographs had picked up on minuscule flaws in the clothing they were shooting, almost enhancing them.

“Well, I better show you the bathroom, then! Away from any cameras!” Harry said, smirking. “Harry.”

“Please, Louis,” Harry said, face falling slightly. “ _Everyone_ here is looking at me and wanting to talk to me and telling me how I'm such a wonderful person, how I'm so inspiring, and I can't stand it, none of them even know me. They don't know how bad I am.”

“You're not bad!” Louis went to put an arm around Harry in reassurance, but at the last minute panicked, giving him an awkward clap on the back instead.

“Please, just five minutes?”

Louis followed Harry out of the room. He'd only been to a few churches before for weddings, but the sheer _size_ of this one amazed him – it reigned true, everything was bigger in Texas.

Harry pointed at a door. “Youth group room. I've got a key...”

“No. I'm sorry!” Louis said, protesting the look Harry gave him. “If someone notices you're missing, the bathroom's where they'll look.”

“All right, all right,” Harry said, leading him into the men's bathroom. There were five stalls and a urinal, luckily all empty. It smelled like fresh eucalyptus.

Louis laughed, pointing at a framed poster. “Jesus watches you pee?” Harry looked a little insulted, so Louis quickly added, “Joking, joking.”

“Well if you don't like it,” Harry shot out, pointing at a cubicle, “then go in there.”

Louis had barely turned his head to follow Harry's finger when Harry gave him a push, straight into the end cubicle, following Louis in there and locking the door behind them.

Louis' heart hammered – he'd surely never get used to Harry's small bursts of assertiveness.

“Well,” he said, fingering Harry's curls for a second, stroking down his cheek, thumbing at his lips.

“Well,” Harry echoed. Louis took the opportunity to push his thumb into the boy's open mouth, just a little bit. For such a sweet boy, Harry had a dirty mouth: always so wet and pink, there didn't seem to be a way to open that mouth and still look innocent. Louis kissed him, lashing his tongue inside Harry's mouth, his thumb still pressed between the corner of their lips.

Harry turned. Louis thought the thumb must have been too much, that Harry was pulling his face back - but he kept moving around until he was facing right away from Louis.

There was a hesitant pause.“Are you o-” Louis went to check, but Harry interrupted him with a, " _Shh._ "

Harry's hands reached out behind him, fumbling, before finding one of Louis' belt loops and pulling him in.

“Harry,” Louis said, trying to keep his voice quiet.“ _Shh,_ ” Harry repeated. “Want you to– like you were doing the other night.”

Cautiously, Louis placed his hands on Harry's hips, gently pulling Harry's ass back to grind against him. “Like-”

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry insisted, suddenly slapping a hand on the wall so he could lean forward, pressing back into Louis, who hit the stall divider behind him, causing it to rattle loudly. “ _Shh!_ ”

“Sorry.” Louis began to laugh, but it was ripped from his throat when Harry grabbed one of Louis' hands and brought it to his lips, putting two fingers right in his mouth. Louis could definitely get behind this.

He _was_ behind this.

Louis undid his belt and pants, just to loosen it all a little, leant over Harry's bent back, pushing his hips down at Harry's ass over and over again. Louis moved his head in closer, nuzzling at Harry's ear so Harry could hear his hushed gasps. Harry started to suck at Louis' fingers in his mouth, tonguing at them. Louis crooked them just slightly, thinking back to his cock in that same mouth, how completely fucked-up and unfair it was that it had only been in there once, that definitely had to be remedied.

Louis was getting frantic, and it was pathetic, to be so worked up by something so chaste, he was far too old for this – but they were secretly in a bathroom together, in a _church_ , and both fully clothed, somehow it all made it so incredibly arousing. Louis quickly slid his hand out of Harry's mouth, gripping the back of the teen's green shirt, leaving a wet smear from his two fingers. Louis fucked up against Harry harder, as Harry moved his other hand to the wall then too, letting Louis push his body so hard that his head hit up against his forearms.

“Oh, _fuck,_ Harry,” Louis whined weakly, in too much of a haze to be able to tell if he was being quiet enough. “You're so _naughty_ , you look so _good,_ you're such a good boy Harry-”

“I am?” Harry asked, pleased, sounding absurdly calm and steady.

“Yes,” Louis hissed. “ _Tu es un bon garçon,_ you're – you're so-” but he couldn't put his mind to talking any more, and he was breathing so heavily it had to be audible, Louis felt everything tighten up and he almost tried to stop it, but it was too late.

Louis pressed his mouth hard against Harry's shoulder blade as he came, for what felt like an impossible amount of time. He was _fully dressed_ for fuck's sake, it was pathetic, why did it feel so good?

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck _fuck,_ ” Louis said, frustrated, catching his breath.

“ _Louis!_ Language!” Harry whispered, turning around – but they were interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open and footsteps entering. In one movement, Louis leapt up onto the toilet seat so his feet were out of view and clamped a hand over Harry's mouth, eyes warning him.

“Harry mate, you in here?” Louis didn't recognise the voice, but Harry gave a small nod, so Louis carefully took his hand away.

“Yeah, um...”

“Everyone's been looking for you!”

Harry looked at Louis, pained, no excuse coming to mind. Louis mimed throwing up, and mouthed, _Dad, get dad._

“I don't feel well,” Harry called out, sounding not at all convincing. “Can you go find my dad?” “Of course! Are you all right?” The footsteps came closer.“I'm fine, please just go get my dad!” Harry said shrilly, looking at Louis in panic.“Sure, won't be a minute.” Thankfully, they heard the door swing shut again.

Louis stepped down from the toilet, grabbing Harry's head in to kiss him on the forehead, then said, rushed, “I'm leaving right now, if anyone asks I said goodbye to you twenty minutes ago – but don't mention me unless someone asks, okay. Tell your dad you're just feeling nervous about going away.”

Harry nodded, stepping back so Louis could squeeze out of the cubicle.

“ _Je suis vraiment désolé_ , I'm so sorry Harry,” Louis said, hating himself. He kissed Harry on the forehead again before sprinting out of the bathroom and away into the night.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Harry had cried himself to sleep, and cried the whole drive to the airport. He'd have felt embarrassed if only the blues hadn't been so consuming.

He loved his family: his dad, his mom, his sister, he loved his church and his friends. Four months. He wasn't going to see them for _four months –_ way longer than the Christian youth summer camps he'd gone on before. He was homesick and he hadn't even left yet.

His sister Gemma held his hand for the whole car ride, trying to lighten the mood with jokes. She'd scooted over into the middle seat, and despite his wet eyes she insisted on taking about a hundred photos of them with her phone. “Come on Harry, _smile._ I need photos or I'll forget what you look like!”

In his other hand, Harry tightly gripped his carry-on bag. His uncle Michael had indeed bought him lubricant. Sex lubricant. Harry had muttered that he'd only need one bottle – Michael had returned with _three_ and, humiliatingly, two were _flavoured_ and worse, the third said _anal_ on it. He'd bought Harry more condoms too, although Harry hadn't even opened the first box. They

  

He'd bought Harry more condoms too, although Harry hadn't even opened the first box. They were all now safely wrapped up in a t-shirt, stashed at the bottom of Harry's backpack.

Harry and the crew were headed to Los Angeles. Harry had seen it on television a lot, and it looked pretty cool place to visit. _Modern Missionary_ was kicking off with an episode filmed at Universal CityWalk the very next day.

_I can do this, I can do this_ , Harry chanted to himself, closing his eyes to pray with Gemma as they saw the airport coming up in the distance.

\-----

There was going to be a tour bus, as well as a small convoy of company cars. Jeremy had proudly shown the crew a photograph of a double-decker monstrosity waiting for them in Hollywood. It had a seven-foot tall picture of Harry's face plastered to the side. The money they were throwing at this production was absurd; the bus seemed half for show, as Louis was still booked in for a quite a few flights over the upcoming months.

Louis had been given an itinerary, but he'd lost it the next day. He'd then asked Linda very nicely for another one, put it in a very safe spot and promptly forgotten where that spot was. It'd show up eventually – wrapped around a spare toothbrush, twisted up in a belt, but for now Louis just relied on the 5am text messages from Linda each morning, briefly outlining his day. As far as he'd gathered, she did it for everyone – she was incredibly useful, Linda The Assistant. She was wasting her potential with a twat like Jeremy, really. She'd thrive in the white house. She'd probably even hack it as one of Anna Wintour's overworked, highly pressured assistants, if only she were younger and slimmer.

Linda's message that morning had read: _11am flight to LAX. Meet MM crew at Fort Worth Airport, domestic check-in, 9.30am. Reply ASAP if assistance needed to arrange travel to airport_.

Louis had been thinking about Harry and the flight since the message had woken him up at five. Would Harry try to blow him in the airplane bathroom again? (Did Louis _want_ him to?) Would Louis be able to, maybe, just put his hand by his thigh and just lightly stroke Harry's leg with his pinkie finger? What if Harry was, like a typical teenager, so horny he was blind to the consequences of his actions, and did something completely fucking obvious in front of the whole team?

Or what if Harry was done with Louis? What if their little thing had just been a last hurrah before Harry started the TV show properly, entering his new life as national celebrity? Perhaps Louis was just a warm-up, and now Harry was confident, ready to kiss some cute guy his own age.

Which was fine, of course it was fine. Louis had enjoyed fooling around with Harry. As risky as it was, it was deliciously, sinfully, delightful. But it was _fine_ if it stopped there. Christ, it wasn't like Louis expected Harry to ignore the any of many teenagers that would surely soon come his way.

They _were_ friends, Harry and Louis. If Harry got a date while they were filming, Louis would probably help him chose out an outfit, maybe even buy him a cheap bottle of wine to ease that teenage awkwardness.

But for now, Harry was adorable in jeans and a bright blue beanie squashing his curls, eyes red and teary as he hugged his family goodbye, a striped polar fleece blanket folded up under one arm as he waited to check-in. Louis wondered if Harry might curl up under his blanket on the flight, tucked in against Louis, and fall asleep like he had on that first flight to New York.

For some reason, it hadn't crossed his mind that they might not be sitting next to each other at all. Louis was at the window with Linda next to him by the aisle, then across the aisle was a sound guy and _then_ there was Harry.

Louis pretended he wasn't disappointed. He'd be far better off just reading for the three-hour flight anyway. He'd gotten a copy of Vogue at the airport – American Vogue, but it would do. He'd eyed the oiled-up six-pack adorning the cover of _Rodeo Riders of Texas, Issue XI_ , but decided against purchasing that under Jeremy's watchful eye.

“Where are you from, honey?” asked the flight attendant, sneaking Louis two tiny bottles of vodka right under Linda's nose. He was a Mexican man, no older than twenty-seven or so, who looked absolutely adorable in his work uniform. He had dark brown eyes, almost black, and he was nice and tall – it seemed to defy physics that he could stand up straight in the plane. Louis could see clearly defined pecs and biceps under the man's pastel shirt – he was definitely Louis' type.

“Up until two weeks ago, France.” Louis smiled, laying on his accent just a little thickly for effect. “I'll be getting around America a lot though. What about you?”

“I live in West Hollywood. I get around plenty just there.” He winked.

“Sounds like you stay busy. I'll have to keep looking for a tour guide, then.”

“Well maybe I could take _one_ night off, just to take care of you... I can think of a few places I'd like to guide you to,” the man said, face smug, fingers gently toying with the silk necktie of his uniform.

The necktie thing was really cute. Americans could wear all sorts of preppy things without looking idiotic. Maybe Louis could get a few neckties for _Modern Missionary_ – there'd actually been some spotted ones in Prada the other day, but Louis hadn't stopped to look. They could be a little twee, he'd have to actually see them on Harry to -

_Harry_. Louis glanced across the aisle, and to his surprise Harry was actually leant forward, looking over at Louis and the flight attendant, the jealousy only half-restrained from his face.

Louis immediately felt guilty, but there didn't seem to be a way out.

Harry was just a kid, a kid who was finally liberating his sexual side, and Louis was in the right place at the right time. Which was the wrong place, it was so, so wrong. Harry was sixteen – which would be just as illegal in California as it was in Texas – and Louis wanted to destroy him until he was dripping sweat and used red raw.... but Louis also just wanted to wake up to those green eyes next to him in bed again. And that – that definitely wasn't right.

It wasn't a stretch to think that if Louis went out with this flight attendant, and Harry knew he was doing it, that Harry might feel a little... insecure, or envious, or _something_. But if Louis was - what, really? _Harry's?_ That idea was completely ridiculous.

Flirting with this flight attendant, that was the right thing to do, objectively. Fucking this necktied man – a man in his late twenties; a very reasonable age against Louis' thirty-two years - after a night of liquor and cocaine and grinding on a dance floor at a gay club that kept a bowl full of condoms in the bathroom - that was the right thing to do.

“Think about it, darling.” The flight attendant brought Louis back to reality before sashaying down the narrow aisle.

“Linda, I'm so bored.” Harry leant forward over the sound guy – who'd already fallen sound asleep. Linda just looked at Harry – she was nice enough, but she also had the personality of dry toast. “I think my headphone jack's broken, could we please swap seats so I can watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Linda said, closing her laptop and standing up.

Harry settled in next to Louis. Louis kept his eyes on his magazine. “Flight attendant seems to like you,” Harry started.Louis did his best attempt at a non-committal noise.“Pretty gay job, flight attendant,” Harry commented.

“Harry!” Louis looked up from his magazine to give what he hoped was a very stern look. “I'm just asking!” Harry said, raising his hands defensively. “Is he?”“Yes.”“Do you like him?” Harry quizzed.

“I don't know,” Louis said, which definitely wasn't the right thing to say.

“So you're going to... what, give him your number?”

Louis shrugged. “Do you think I should?”

“ _I don't know,_ ” Harry said, mimicking Louis' accent. Harry turned his head in, lowering his voice. “You just want someone to have _sex_ with, don't you?”

“I – _merde -_ I don't know,” Louis said, nervously peering out, but Linda was invisible behind the sleeping sound guy. He _didn't know_ , he really didn't.

Harry huffed, thumping his back into his seat and crossing his arms. “Well, sorry I don't do that. _So_ sorry I'm not gay.”

That was clear enough. “Hey, it's fine,” Louis tried to reassure Harry as quietly as possible. “I don't need to see him. I don't mind. Maybe there'll be time tonight for you and I to go see a movie or something instead.”

Harry looked up at Louis, a little guiltily. “Would that be okay? Really?”“Yes, of course,” Louis said, predicting two nights of frustrated wanking, all alone in his hotel room in the heart of Hollywood. _Fantastique._

\-----

The hotel was _awesome_ – even better than the one in New York City, and Harry had his room all to himself. Louis had kept his word on the movie too, and they were about head out.

Harry didn't have to so much ask Jeremy permission to go out in his time off, but he was supposed to at least check in. Awkwardly standing in the doorway of Jeremy's hotel room – quite a lot bigger than Harry's room! - he reasoned with Jeremy that it would help his nerves, getting to see Universal CityWalk before they filmed there the next day.

“Do I need to dress him?” Louis had asked, eyebrows raised at Jeremy, who'd paused thoughtfully then decided, “No. Take a company car though, the valet will bring it out for you.”

“If he doesn't care what you're wearing, it means he's not sending photographers,” Louis had quietly explained as they walked off. “Do behave, though.”

“I'm well behaved!”

“Sit _still_ , and put your seatbelt on, _s'il te plaît_. This traffic is horrendous,” Louis said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Harry couldn't believe his eyes, the streets gliding past them looked exactly like they had in the movies. He was really out here, in Los Angeles, this was all really happening.

Reading the screens displaying session times, Louis rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. “Is there anything you've been wanting to see?”

“Not really. I like action. Or comedies.”

Louis squeezed his shoulder, coaxing. “How are you with subtitles? They've got international films here, see?”

Harry hated subtitles, like actually _hated_ them. It was such a dumb concept. If he wanted to read, he'd just get a book. The poster Louis was pointing at looked dry as meatloaf anyway – it wasn't hinting at any explosions or rude jokes.

Harry got it, though. At least he'd guessed. “You want to hear some French?” Louis nodded, looking like he was holding back a smile.“Sure. I love subtitles,” Harry said, getting into the queue to buy tickets.

It seemed like Harry wasn't the only one with a disdain for international films – save for an elderly couple up the front, and a group of hipster girls (that painfully reminded Harry of his sister) towards the middle, the cinema was empty.

“Can we sit right up the back?” Harry asked. “We won't see anything,” Louis complained. “And no one will see us,” Harry countered.

Louis stood in the aisle for a minute, weighing Harry up with his eyes before shrugging and heading to the seat in the very back corner of the cinema. Harry followed, doing exactly what he and his friends did when they went to the movies; pull up all the armrests and lie down, his feet towards Louis and head towards the aisle.

“Now you _really_ won't see anything.” Louis laughed as the lights dimmed. “I can hear it.”

“In French?” It was hard to tell in the dark, but Louis was possibly giving Harry a pointed look. Harry rapidly kicked his feet against Louis' thigh, hoping to elicit some sort of response, more laughter or maybe a few playful punches.

What Harry wasn't prepared for was Louis' hands, fast and firm, wrapping tight around Harry's ankles and throwing them off the seat.

“ _Lève-toi,_ ” Louis said. “Stand up.” His voice was so low and firm that Harry just did it automatically, because _gosh_ , Louis sounded like a teacher or something. Louis beckoned at Harry, although his eyes were ahead watching the opening credits flash up. Harry stepped over to where Louis was seated against the wall.

Louis jerked his head curtly at the empty seat next to him. “ _Assieds-toi._ ”

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be just like seeing a flick with his church mates back in Texas, throwing popcorn at each other and sprawling about the seats as if they were at home, making silly hushed comments about an actress' cleavage, Harry's friends pretending not to ogle at her, Harry himself almost feeling like he had to pretend _to_ ogle.

Louis' strong hands gripping Harry's ankles, reminiscent of him wrapped around other parts of Harry, and a romantic accordion dancing over the movie's soundtrack, in this all-but-empty

cinema where he felt completely anonymous... Louis being so _firm_ , making Harry feel like he'd do absolutely anything Louis told him to do, he _wanted_ to do absolutely anything Louis told him to do. And Louis looking so very _nice_ in the dark with the movie reflecting dim light against his face... this was not how it was supposed to go at all.

“This isn't a date,” Harry whispered, although it sounded stupid. All Louis said was, “Sit down.”Harry did as he was told.

The movie was about – ah, something. Two men and a map and an old woman, and for some reason every other scene was by a river. Harry had missed the first few minutes, all but gawping at Louis instead. He'd tried to catch up, but he kept realising his mind was drifting off and although his eyes were on the subtitles, he wasn't absorbing any of the words. Harry shuffled in his seat, well and truly bored, inadvertently knocking his knee against Louis'.

He left it there.

Louis' hand, resting on his own thigh, slid over just slightly until his pinkie finger met Harry's leg. He stroked incessantly, so lightly Harry could barely feel it, but he could _see_ it. It was a lot more interesting to look at than the stupid subtitles.

Quite a few moments later, Louis laughed, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling. Happiness so earnest on his face, he turned just his mouth towards Harry and said, “It's funny, no?”

No, it wasn't funny, actually. It wasn't funny how their thighs barely brushing against each other had made Harry hard. It wasn't funny how an hour of constant French in Louis' ears had left him looking relaxed and warmed from the inside-out. It wasn't funny how Louis' messy quiff and light scruff on his jaw looked so good in the dark, it wasn't funny how Louis looked so cute when he laughed, it wasn't funny when one of the actors said something that made Louis laugh even harder. This time he actually did turn his whole face to Harry, tapping at his thigh as he laughed, urging Harry to laugh along with him. It wasn't funny at all.

It wasn't funny how Louis didn't move his head back to watch the screen and it wasn't funny how Louis let his hand drop heavy onto Harry's leg, it wasn't funny how Louis slowly rubbed his palm over Harry's thigh.

“This isn't a date,” Harry reminded Louis, chest tight.“Of course not. I'm sorry,” Louis said, gently removing his hand and turning back to the screen.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, ears almost ringing, the stupid movie's stupid soundtrack swirling through his brain – it was the sort of music that made you want to run about the banks of rivers just like the characters in the movie were doing, it was the sort of music that made you want to go on a picnic with someone beautiful and hand-feed them grapes, and it was _definitely_ the sort of music that made you want to kiss handsome men in dark cinemas.

Harry did just that.

He always panicked for a second before his lips met Louis', because why on earth did he feel like he wanted Louis so bad? It was so disgusting and wrong. The only way to push past that confusion and repulsion at his own self was just give in completely to his urges, lose himself in desire. Harry pushed himself into Louis so hard that he somehow ended up right in Louis' lap, facing to the side like a child on Santa's knee, hands grabbing aimlessly at Louis – his shoulders, biceps, chest and stomach, while they kissed and kissed and kissed.

Harry withdrew, because it was starting to feel like a _lot_ , and out of habit more than anything he punched himself in the gut, hard.

Louis grabbed Harry's wrist so tight it almost hurt. Seemingly lost for words, he just stared at Harry in confusion.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, embarrassed – he'd never had to do that in front of someone else before. “Makes the...” Wrist still trapped in Louis' hand, he pointed a finger at his crotch. “You know. Go away.”

Louis' eyes were questioning, like, _Is this okay?_ But his hand moved with certainty, leading Harry's palm down to press against his hard dick. He guided Harry's wrist, causing Harry to rub himself through his jeans. The pressure felt amazing and it wasn't technically masturbation if someone else was moving your hand, right? It was okay, right?

“Do you want to leave?” Louis whispered, right in Harry's ear. Harry shook his head.“We'll finish watching the movie, then?”Harry shook his head again.

Only then did Louis unfurl his fingers from their grip on Harry's wrist. Harry had no excuse to be touching himself then, so he took his hand away. He squeezed his legs together, trying to get some friction from his jeans, needing a release.

Harry pushed his forehead into Louis' neck, biting at his skin, keeping his shaky breaths as soft as possible. “Please, help me out.” It wasn't a gay thing or anything like that, he'd just somehow gotten into this situation and desperately needed help to get out of it.

“Face the screen,” Louis quietly ordered, and again Harry obeyed without a second thought, wriggling around so his butt was right against Louis' crotch and, if Harry leant back, their faces were cheek to cheek.

Louis unzipped Harry's pants, so excruciatingly slow that Harry could faintly hear each individual tooth of the zipper click apart. Louis' hand crept inside Harry's jeans but over his underpants, and began to just ever so thinly rub at Harry. Harry could already feel a wet stickiness where he was dribbling precome, it was so embarrassing, but he was so turned on and so _needy_.

Harry began to rock his hips up against Louis' hand, feeling behind him that he was also nudging against Louis – somewhere in Harry's mind he registered that he didn't even feel bad about that, who cared if Harry's butt was rubbing against Louis' stiff cock, who _cared?_

Harry tried to kiss Louis, turning his head as far as he could and only meeting the side of Louis' lips, but he kissed and licked anyway, whispering, “Please, Louis, please,” until finally Louis' hand darted into Harry's underpants and yanked the elastic right down, exposing his balls and

dick.

Harry's eyes nervously searched the cinema – the elderly couple were so still they might have even passed away, and the other girls were focused on the screen, slowly and deeply nodding as if the movie was explaining the meaning of life to them.

The meaning of life was _this,_ it was Louis squeezing Harry's dick, his hand strong but kind of small, it didn't cover even half of Harry's length. The meaning of life was Louis pushing his fist inwards just a little, encouraging Harry to grind his ass back against Louis. Louis ran his fingers up Harry's length, moving in an incremental wave like a centipede's legs, each gliding over the head of Harry's cock. Harry could _feel_ precome, sliming the space where fingertips met skin. He went red-hot with embarrassment, so glad the theatre was dark, he didn't mean to be so turned on -

“So nice and _wet_ ,” Louis breathed hush, words ever so slow. Louis liked it, he really liked it. He liked _Harry_.

Louis' fingers squeezed, milking more precome out. Harry whimpered involuntarily. Louis' hand dropped Harry's cock with a snap, shooting up to his mouth and shoving all four fingers right in to silence him. Harry could taste himself, sweet and bitter, on Louis' fingers.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Louis asked, voice almost silent. Harry nodded helplessly, Louis' hand still in his mouth. “Get my hand wet,” Louis ordered. Harry felt so embarrassed and rapacious and ashamed as he lapped his wet tongue against Louis' fingers, but all the bad feelings were gone when Louis' hand returned to Harry's cock, firmly jerking him up and down, sliding with ease thanks to Harry's own spit. This was fine, this was _right_ , this was white-hot heaven.

Harry tried really really hard to stay calm and not make sounds and keep his breathing steady, if not a little fast. He set his eyes at the bottom of the cinema screen, finally paying proper attention to the subtitles. He repeated each sentence back inside his head, but it was useless. Louis' hand was deliberate and almost authoritative, just like it had been around Harry's ankle before. Harry couldn't concentrate, and he needed to concentrate, because he was about to blow -

Louis half withdrew his hand, using two fingers and a thumb to squeeze at the very base of Harry's cock, quite hard. His other hand met Harry's balls, gently tugging them away from where they'd pulled up into him. Harry's whole body felt ripped apart in confusion. He'd _felt_ himself about to come but then somehow he hadn't... Harry didn't even know that was possible.

Louis' hand cradled Harry's balls, stroking them, squeezing very lightly. “Mm, _oui_ ,” he whispered into Harry's neck. “You feel so good here.”

Harry wondered if they did feel good, though. They mustn't feel half as good as Louis' had in Harry's hand, that secret night in the hotel in Dallas.

“Do you think you could show me how to shave them some time? Like yours?” Harry whispered. Harry felt Louis' thighs tense up underneath him, and a moment later Louis' teeth bit into Harry's

shoulderblade. _Ooh_.

“Would you do it for me?” Harry asked – it was so easy to be brazen in the dark cinema. It was like his mouth was moving on it's own accord, making plans that Harry's brain had never agreed to.

\-----

Louis moved his lips close to Harry's ear, keeping his voice as low as possible. He let a stream of words quietly spill out as he tugged at the boy's cock with ease. “You feel incredible Harry, you're so naughty, wanting to do this in a cinema. You're so good, you're such a good boy, you've got such a nice big cock, so nice and wet for me...” and driven completely mad with lust he started whispering far worse things in French, “ _T'es mon garçon, t'es canon. Je veux te lécher de la tête aux pieds. Tu es un bon garçon, très très bon,_ ” and then, for some reason unknown, it just slipped right out; “Harry, _Je t'aime._ ”

Louis drew back, having stunned himself, his hands leaving Harry to grip at the seat below him. Harry moved in his lap, eyes darting around the cinema which was just as still as before. “What is it?” Harry whispered, turning his shoulders around to face Louis. “Wait, what did you just say? Tell me!”

Louis had never said it to anyone before – well, of course he'd _said_ it, but not quite like that. More like “You're a great friend,” or “I can't believe you found me that Dion Lee t-shirt I was hunting for,” or “Fuck yes, I can see my dick in your throat.” There had been plenty of _those_ kind of admissions of love, but never like this.

No, no, no. _'This'_ wasn't anything. Louis was just on-edge, and understandably so; this all- grinding, no-fucking lifestyle wasn't at all what his body was used to. All the chemicals were coursing through his body with next to no release, muddying his head with false emotion.

It was ten times worse because everything was so in-your-face in America, it had none of Europe's classy subtlety, absolutely none of it, and Harry was so beautiful, so fucking in-your-face beautiful. His smell was all skin and linen and citrus and spice and it got Louis drunk every time he was close enough to breathe him in. There was the way Harry did that _thing_ , leaning his head forward and ruffling his curls up with both hands, then pushing his fringe right over to the side, Louis could watch that for hours on end, because Harry's hands looked so _meant-to-be_ through his hair and Louis thought _his_ hands looked even better in there, thin fingers all knotted up through the brown curls, able to pull Harry's head towards any whim Louis had....

Harry was so _young,_ which was both the rub and the appeal. He made Louis feel young again.

That wasn't love, though. Just lust and taboo and sexual frustration, combined with Harry's companionship easing Louis' homesickness.

Louis didn't even believe in love, anyway. He'd never seen it, except in movies.

He hadn't even realised that the closing credits were rolling, but suddenly the lights were coming on. Harry leapt up off Louis' lap and quickly stuffed himself back into his pants, cringing as he did them up, then returning his eyes back to Louis.

The theatre lights weren't too bright, but they were absolutely blinding Louis. He felt a little sick,

and a lot embarrassed.

Harry looked far worse than Louis felt, though. His eyes were dilated almost completely black, his cheeks were flushed crimson, his lips puffy and bitten into a matching shade, and although Louis couldn't recall either of them touching Harry's head, his curls were wild.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again, then repeated that movement, rosy lips mouthing wordlessly. Louis reached out a damp hand to grab Harry's hand tight. Harry squeezed back just as hard.

Louis pulled – practically dragged - Harry out of the cinema, outside, towards the car. He felt a tug at his hand every so often, looking back in time to see Harry stumbling over his own feet, eyes still glazed and erection painfully obvious in his pants. The frantic walk to the carpark felt like it took hours.

They stopped by the car, Louis having to practically wrench his hand out of Harry's grip. “Jesus _christ_ Harry, sort yourself out,” Louis muttered, trying to pull Harry's pants up to conceal his ridiculous bulge, but that small tug seemed far too much for Harry, who whimpered, knees buckling.

Louis pushed Harry back against the car before he could drop right to his knees. “Get in the car, Harry.”

Harry fumbled with the car door handle, fingers slipping. Once he got it open he all but fell into the passenger seat. Louis spun around, heading to the driver's side so hastily that he knocked his knee on one of the headlights. “ _Merde,_ ouch.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, the bright lights of the LA traffic making the night glitter, Harry's eyes shining all too bright.

“Are you all right?” Louis said, admittedly worried.Harry nodded, but his face made it look a lot more like a no.“Don't worry, we'll be back at the hotel soon. You can have some chill-out time.” Harry moaned, writhing in his seat, shaking his head furiously.

Harry was absolutely _dazed_ and it probably wouldn't have taken much – five or ten sharp strokes and he'd be coming, Louis probably didn't even need to take his eyes off the road, he could just reach over and have Harry sorted before the next stop light - but it was _Harry_.

_Louis'_ Harry.

Louis took the next turnoff and just kept taking left and right turns. He got himself completely lost, but found that calm washed over him as the street lamps got fewer and further between, the congestion of large buildings dissipating into a suburban sprawl. Louis put the car into park.

Away from the traffic, Harry's silence was deafening. He sat there, squirming desperately, hands clenched into fists. Louis couldn't see much in the dark, but he'd bet every single pair of his nice shoes that Harry was still a general reddish-pink where it mattered, lips and cheeks and chest glowing crimson with _sex_.

Louis punched the steering wheel so hard Harry jumped in his seat. Louis was completely aware

that if one nosy neighbour peeked out their window, or worse, a cop car happened to cruise by – that'd be _it_ , that'd be Louis' ass either deported or locked in an American jail.

But men far less willingly sinful than Louis would have given in to the way Harry looked right now.

“Do you want to sit in the back for a bit?” Louis gently suggested, and Harry nodded. He made to get out of the car door and was jerked back by his seatbelt. It was very un-Harry that he didn't laugh at his own goofiness. Harry tried again, undoing his seatbelt first and then successfully getting out of the car this time. Louis mirrored his movement, then they were both in the back seat, car doors slamming a brief bassline against the quiet evening.

“You're _not_ quite all right.” Louis commented.

Harry shook his head. Louis realised he hadn't uttered a word since inside the cinema. He wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him in tight. Harry felt hot and a tiny bit damp with sweat. Louis stroked Harry's cheek. Harry's eyes fluttered shut as he nuzzled his face against Louis' hand.

“Talk to me, Harry,” Louis said, still worried. Louis could practically see the cogs turning over inside Harry's brain.

“Can't think straight,” Harry finally managed.

Louis kissed Harry softly, trailing over his lips, his cheeks, down his neck. He picked up Harry's hands in his, kissing each fingertip, watching Harry's face as he sighed in apparent bliss. Interlocking the fingers of one hand through Harry's, Louis used his other hand to undo Harry's pants.

When Louis took hold of Harry's cock, the boy cried out and his entire body spasmed. Louis stroked him, slow and steady, drowning in the way Harry breathed heavily and made high-pitched gasps, entirely unembarrassed about how completely gone he sounded. Louis just kept kissing him, all over, pressing lips to Harry's collarbones even though the fabric of his t-shirt separated them – it was _nice_ fabric, a silk bamboo blend that Louis had bought Harry mostly because of the way it felt in his fingers. It felt even nicer against his lips.

Their intertwined hands were hot and sweaty and Louis' knuckles hurt, he was gripping Harry so hard, but Harry was just so so _perfect,_ his breath getting rapid and ragged against Louis' forehead.

Louis shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have, but he swiftly took both his hands away from Harry, sitting back in the car seat just to _look_ at the boy, who looked so utterly _fucked -_ when he hadn't been fucked, not now, not ever before.

Louis couldn't even begin to imagine how Harry would look after _actually being fucked_.Well, not would look. Just might look. Hypothetically.“Why?” Harry pouted, voice still high, looking so frustrated he might start to cry. “Come back.”

How had Louis gotten here? Less than a month ago he'd been in Paris, sleeping two or three hours

each night and only having time for one meal each day. He was fucking people, certainly doing far worse than kissing and a handjob, but that was all it was, it was just fucking. Louis had been an island in Paris, and he'd liked it that way. He had friends, of course, and family, but when it really came down to it, Louis was better off alone.

At least that's what he used to think.How on earth had he gotten _here_ , the back seat of a black BMW, somewhere near – if Louis'

sense of direction was at all correct – the Hollywood Hills, in _America_.

How, how the fuck had he gotten here, with this fucking _sixteen_ year old, who was everything all at once: lustful, fearful, preachy, confused, sure, helpless, commanding, demanding, _everything_ , all at once.

Louis needed Harry to know, he need him to understand that he'd changed everything. And that deserved a week away in a cottage in Vallee de la Loire, that deserved sunlight and fresh air and a warm breeze making curtains dance, it deserved an enormous soft white bed with too many pillows, it deserved several hours of _slow and gentle_ with the lights on.

Except all Louis had was this tiny back seat of a company car, hastily parked in an LA backstreet in a night that wasn't dark enough. Louis couldn't even take Harry's shirt off for fear of someone walking their dog past the car.

Louis steadied Harry with a kiss on the lips before lowering his head down.

You couldn't call it a blowjob really, because Harry came instantaneously, absolutely filling Louis' mouth. Louis sucked happily, not swallowing yet, relishing Harry's shudders and jerks. He didn't lift his mouth off until he was absolutely certain he'd gotten every last drop, enjoying the closed- lipped shrieks Harry made when Louis brought him to the point of being almost _over_ -stimulated.

Louis kissed Harry again, letting half the come wash into Harry's mouth. Harry gave a small sound of protest, but Louis reassured him, more spilling out of his lips as he spoke, “You've been so good Harry, you taste so good, I want to share it with you.” And Harry nodded and then kissed him again, until Louis couldn't tell where his own saliva ended and where Harry's come began.

Louis wiped off Harry's lips with his thumb, eyes catching his watch. He squinted in the dark, unable to make out the hands, and checked his phone instead.

“Christ. _Christ._ ”

“Shh!” Harry protested feebly.

“Sorry. It's getting late. We've got to get you back to the hotel. Come on, get back in the front.”

Harry shook his head, sinking in to the car's back seat. “You're filming tomorrow,” Louis reminded him, but Harry's eyelids were drooping shut.

“Not 'til the afternoon,” Harry mumbled.

Louis drove them back to the hotel, adjusting the rear-view mirror so he could keep an eye on Harry, asleep in the back seat.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The lights in the hotel room were so bright they hurt Harry's eyes, but there wasn't a dimmer switch. Harry had left his phone on charge and when he saw two text messages from his mom, he felt ill. His mom would never look him in the eye again if she knew even half of what he'd gotten up to tonight.

The room was so empty and cold. Not the actual temperature, but just the feel of it all – pale sheets on the big bed and meaningless framed prints on the walls and plain white towels hanging in the bathroom. It was so empty, especially with a double bed – wasn't the whole point of a double bed to fit two people into it?

His mom had asked, _How was your flight? Spotted any celebs?_ and then two hours later, _Miss you, sugar. God bless._ Harry wanted to cry because it was too late to reply now, but he missed his mom too, missed her and Gemma and his dad and his own single bed so very much already. He missed what life was two months ago, when it was all so simple and he'd thought he knew who he was.

Harry dialled Louis' number instead, wanting to leave him with a missed call, but Louis actually picked it up on the first ring – oops, Louis was old enough to still actually use his phone as a phone.

“Can you come to my room? I'm all alone and I hate it,” Harry asked around the lump in his throat.

The knock on the door was so quiet that Harry thought he might have imagined it, but a quick look through the peephole showed Louis standing there with a small bag hanging from his hand. He'd changed, wearing a blood red shirt with a low scooped neck that was hanging off his collarbones, showing off his chest hair – gosh, Louis had such a nice light smattering of chest hair - and he must have combed his hair out because it was not so much quiffed as just all flicked out. He hadn't shaved, his stubble almost forming a goatee... Louis looked like an earthly devil.

Harry let him in. It felt incredibly weird, like he'd grown up a lot all of a sudden. He'd barely travelled before and now he was someone who had a giant hotel room all to themselves.

Someone who apparently had late-night gentleman-callers come to visit him in his giant hotel room.

It was weird, too, how Harry felt awful about all the things he'd done with Louis, yet Louis was the only one who made him feel any better at all.

Louis slipped off his shoes and lay back on Harry's bed, ankles crossed and hands behind his head. If he was trying to look casual he was failing, because he looked kind of -

 _No_ , he didn't look like anything. Harry didn't care what Louis looked like, he _wasn't gay_. Still, the bed looked a lot better with someone filling up the other half.

 

Harry curled up along the bed sideways, his body meeting Louis' to make a T-shape. He rested his head on Louis' chest, facing away. Louis shuffled underneath him slightly, then Harry felt his hand meet the back of Harry's head, twisting his curls and scratching his scalp.

“I want my mom,” Harry admitted.Louis didn't reply, just kept his hand moving through Harry's hair.

Harry must have fallen asleep, because he was now waking up again. It was still dark. He sat up and turned to Louis, asking, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Not long.” Louis smiled. “Maybe an hour. You should go back to sleep, we've got work tomorrow.”

That sounded fantastic; _we've got work_ , it made them sound so... equal. “I'm awake now. Need to have a shower, anyway. You don't mind?” "'Course not.”

Harry moved into the bathroom, unpacking his toiletries. His hand paused over his disposable razor.

Louis looked so nice _down there_ , and felt so nice too, silky smooth. It wasn't as if Harry liked it in _that_ way, he just... wanted to feel the same way too.

He poked his head out of the door, cleared his throat to make Louis look up, and shyly waved the razor at him.

Louis shook his head.

Harry tapped the razor against the door frame.

Louis looked away.

Harry threw the razor at Louis.

Louis picked it up, turning it over in his hand. He _sneered_. “Have you got shaving cream?”

“I've got soap?”

Louis actually laughed, getting off the bed and striding out of the room without putting his shoes on.

“Are you going?”“I'll be back,” Louis declared, shutting the door, leaving Harry alone again.

Louis was back in fourteen minutes – not that Harry had been counting - a much fancier razor in

his hand, along with several matte black and white bottles embossed with silver print. “So, what shall I do? Sit on the bathroom floor and give you directions?”Harry paused. What _should_ Louis do?“Have you had a shower today?” Harry explored tentatively.

“Not since last night.” Louis smiled.“Well – I mean... to save time – save water?” Harry awkwardly pointed at the shower.

Louis took Harry's cheeks in both hands, tilting his head to look right into Harry. “Hotels have a whole lot of hot water, 'Arry.”

“Okay, but... but you're here in my room, so you can have a shower here.” “I could have a shower back in my own room.”

“Yeah, but...” and Harry felt kind of shit, because there was no way he could actually say it out loud. The best he could do was, “Louis.”

“Do you want me to have a shower with you?”

Harry nodded his head, cheeks still framed by Louis' soft palms.

“Just a shower?”

Harry wanted to want to say, _yes, just a shower_. Because he'd done enough with Louis, he'd really done _way_ too much already. He was supposed to say, _yes, just a shower._

Harry shrugged. “We'll see.”

Louis opened the glass door, placing his assortment of bottles on the floor in an almost loving way, and turned on the water. He glided fingers through the stream, so tantalisingly, then nodded and stepped out again, taking off his clothes.

 _All_ of his clothes.Harry waited until Louis got back in the shower, closing his eyes as the water hit his face. Harry

then hurried out of his clothes and stepped into the shower too, accidentally slamming the door.

Louis was already soaked, beads of water dripping down his skin, such _nice skin_ on him, and his hair slowly sliding down to land across his forehead. His hands were running across his collarbones and his throat as he tilted his neck, allowing the hot water to ease his muscles.

 _Just a shower,_ a voice in the back of Harry's head tried to scream. It sounded faint, like when you're stuck in traffic and you can vaguely hear the music from the car next from you.

Louis stepped past Harry – the shower was twice as big as the one at home, but it was still quite small and they were very very close together. He leant down to pick up a bottle – and oh gosh, Louis' _bum_. Harry stepped under the water, facing into it and away from Louis, all but praying that his dick would stop swelling.

Harry heard the bottle click open in Louis' hand. A moment later, it clicked open again, and suddenly Louis' hands were gently massaging shampoo through Harry's curls, skilled hands rubbing at his scalp. It smelled great, far better than the generic stuff Harry owned.

It _felt_ great.Louis spoke quietly. “Rinse off, then.”

Not wanting to turn around, Harry ducked his head forward into the water. Louis moved behind him, nudging past him to rinse out his own hair. Harry tried to turn, his boner knocking into Louis' thigh.

“ _'Arry,_ ” Louis said, looking right down at Harry.“Will you shave me?” Harry blurted out, desperately trying to change the subject.

Louis nodded as the water washed away his shampoo, eyes fixed on Harry's cock. “Is that all you want?”

Harry whispered “Yes,” while every fibre of his body screamed, _no no no, I want more._

Louis knelt down in front of Harry, face only inches away from his crotch. Louis' lips were wet – his whole face was – and Harry absolutely _needed_ Louis' lips on him. He knew Louis wouldn't move if Harry didn't tell him it was okay though, and Harry couldn't find those words.

Louis reached a hand over without moving his head, fumbling for a moment before selecting a different bottle and squeezing some of its contents into his hands. He rubbed them together slowly, a white foam forming, before wiping his hands all over Harry – at the base of his cock, where his thighs met his pelvis, smoothing luxuriously creamy foam over his balls.

Louis ran his razor under the water for a minute, eyes expertly assessing the situation in front of him. It was practically comical, the way he acted like Harry's dick hadn't doubled in size in the past few minutes and wasn't waving right in front of his face.

“You're going to have to stay very still, 'Arry.” Louis was looking up at Harry, edging his knees forward so they rested right by Harry's toes. His eyes shone up through his soaked fringe, but with hands covered in shaving foam he was helpless to move it.

Harry reached down for him, pushing his hair back. His hand stopped at the crown of Louis' head.

He was very, very, _very_ close to pulling Louis forward, just smashing Louis' whole face right into his crotch, but at the last minute Louis had flicked up his hand and started tracing the razor over Harry's skin. Louis moved fast, impossibly efficient, blade darting under the stream of water every so often and then returning to Harry's skin. Louis' fingers dragged at the skin of Harry's balls, slowly pulling the skin taught. It felt – it felt so -

It didn't feel anything. This wasn't a sexy thing, this was just shaving. “Stay still,” Louis reminded him.

All too soon, Louis announced he was, “Done.”

It was both a relief and a disaster, watching Louis get up off his knees to stand again.

Then - “Actually. Turn around.”

Harry turned, staring at the tiles in front of him when all he wanted to do was watch Louis over his shoulder. Louis' hands found the middle of Harry's back, pushing him to lean forward.

“Do you trust me, 'Arry?” And he sounded inquisitive – it was really a genuine question. “Yeah.”“Spread your legs.” Which – okay, wow. “Careful you don't slip.”

Harry followed Louis' direction, hearing him squirt out more shaving cream. Louis gently pressed his foamy hands in between Harry's ass cheeks, practically massaging into the muscles. Harry gasped, leaning harder into the tiles in front of him.

Harry felt the razor slide across his skin again, so unbelievably close to his hole. It felt _so good_.

He lifted one hand off the wall, cautiously snaking down to his crotch. His fingers found smooth, wet, bare skin, totally unfamiliar and totally _hot._ His balls were worse, positively _silky_ beneath his hand.

Harry wrapped a hand around his cock, using superhuman willpower to go very, very slowly, lest he slip and push precious skin against Louis' very sharp razor. He felt boiling hot, wishing the shower was letting out cold water instead, but he wasn't about to move his hand off the wall, and definitely not off himself.

Masturbation was wrong, that hadn't changed. But this wasn't exactly just masturbation. He was just... seeing how he felt, shaved bare.

“ _Now_ you're done,” Louis said, pleased with his work, giving the razor a final rinse.“No,” Harry protested weakly, starting to fist at his cock harder now he didn't have to stand still. “No?” Louis said absentmindedly, not having seen what Harry was doing to himself.“Need you back, come back,” Harry gasped.

And like that, Louis was _there_ again, his hands massaging the space in between Harry's ass cheeks, his chin, rough with stubble, pushing into where Harry's neck met his shoulder, starting to slowly mutter almost inaudible French into his ear.

Louis' fingers wound up tucked in behind where Harry's balls ended, but not quite back to his ass yet. Harry wondered briefly if Louis was lost but then he _pushed,_ rubbing ever just so slightly side to side, and – wow, wow, wow, it felt _incredible_.

Harry could feel something else too, Louis' _very_ hard cock resting at Harry's crack, sliding up and down just slightly between Harry's cheeks and Louis' hands.

It absolutely was _not_ Louis' dick that set Harry off, but he came right then, hand slipping over his wet cock, sharp, high gasps echoing off the tiles. Immediately he was pulled back into Louis' arms, tight, and Louis pressed kiss after kiss onto his neck.

Harry swayed in Louis' hold, waiting for that gut-wrenching _what did I just do?_ guilt to come,

Harry swayed in Louis' hold, waiting for that gut-wrenching _what did I just do?_ guilt to come, but... it didn't.

“Come on,” Louis said kindly, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. Harry got out too, Louis cloaking him in a towel, rubbing his arms through the fabric.

Louis turned to the mirror, face scrunched up in displeasure. “What's this, 'Arry?” he asked, poking himself in the stomach. “It wasn't there three weeks ago. American food, is what it is.” He pinched his tiny belly, sighing.

“Don't be stupid, I think you look great! Like, really great - no homo.”

It had just slipped out.

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!” Harry quickly added, but Louis eyes were already wild. He snatched the wet bathmat off the floor, spinning it in his hand a couple of times before flicking it at Harry with great speed. Harry jumped out of the way just in time, hearing it crack against the air.

Harry raced out of the bathroom, towel falling off his shoulders. Louis was hot on his heels, and although they were both still naked and wet, Louis tackled him onto the bed.

Harry probably could have taken Louis on. Well, he could have at least put up a good fight for a few minutes. He just gave in instead – _only_ because it was so late, _only_ because he was getting a bit tired, they didn't have time to wrestle – Harry let Louis straddle him on the bed, his hands gripped tight on Harry's shoulders, pinning him down.

Louis shook his head like a dog, dripping water all over Harry's face. He smiled for a moment, surveying the sight, before leaning down – pushing even harder on Harry's shoulders, but Harry didn't mind – his lips and tongue meeting each droplet on Harry's face, licking him clean again.

Louis had a really nice tongue. Harry sort of knew what he wanted, he knew where he wanted that tongue - but he wouldn't dare ask for it, because it was so, so depraved.

“Bedtime, then?” Louis asked. “Not yet.”

“ _Yes_ yet, it's bedtime.” Louis got off the bed. It wasn't exactly convincing because Louis was still hard, and Harry was rapidly getting there again too. He definitely wasn't going to masturbate twice in one night though.

Louis turned off all the lights and returned, lying down under the covers, facing away. Harry curled up behind him – only because they were both still naked, and it might get cold.

Harry's hands were somehow just behind Louis' ass, and then they were _on_ his ass, and they they were sliding all over it, trying to massage the flesh like Louis had just done for him.

“'Arry, it's late. We have work tomorrow.”“Exactly,” Harry agreed, kneading his hands harder. “It's my first proper day. I think I should get

something – for luck. I liked the way you felt... here.” He moved his fingertips closer into Louis, though not daring to meet Louis' hole.

Louis turned over, but whatever he was about to do got forsaken when his cock accidentally met Harry's. Harry wrapped his hands around Louis' neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Louis' hands gripped at Harry's hips, almost holding him back, before trailing his fingers down to where he'd made Harry bare and sleek. Harry was definitely hard again now.

“Think I already did something for you, for luck.” Louis said, stroking Harry's hairless skin.

\-----

“You'd said you'd show me, you know. You promised!” Harry said, awkwardly wiggling a finger in front of Louis' face, hinting.

“Don't be insolent.” Louis laughed. “I didn't promise anything. Come on, it's late, and you should sleep.”

“I'm not tired,” Harry argued. “ _I'll_ make a promise though, I promise I'll go to sleep after you show me.”

“I can't,” Louis said, and he did feel bad about letting Harry down. “Didn't bring lube.”

“A-ha! I have some!” Harry cried out gleefully, turning on a lamp and leaping off the bed to rummage through a bag.

What the fuck? Why did Harry have _lube_?

Harry returned, sitting at the foot of the bed, asking, “Flavoured or, um, anal?” The last word coming out as a whisper.

 _Christ._ Louis accepted the latter.

“You sure you want to do this?” Louis confirmed.“I'm not _doing_ anything, I'm just watching.”“Okay, are you sure you want to watch?”Harry nodded, so enthusiastic that his curls bounced.“Will you tell me if you want me to stop? If you want me to go back to my own room?”

“So many _questions_ , Louis!” Harry whined, batting at Louis' hand that held the bottle of lube. Louis snatched his hand out of reach.

“Yes, I'll tell you if you have to stop,” Harry agreed.

“Good. Just – be serious for a moment, Harry. You know that's important that you can do that, okay? Stop anything, at any time? Not just with me, but with anyone.”

Harry did seem to be serious, if only for a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess so.” “And if you're with someone else, they're allowed to stop things too.” “Yeah. Ah. Do you want to stop?”

“Nope,” popped out of Louis lips as he lay down on his back, bringing his knees up. He had to spread his legs, really, but Harry was right there. “Can I -?” He moved one leg around so Harry was sat between his spread ankles.

Harry swallowed, staring at where Louis had displayed himself. “Can't see.”

Louis grabbed a pillow – and then fuck it, why not a second – sliding them underneath himself to prop himself up. “Better?”

“Much.”

This wasn't the first time Louis had played with himself in front of someone, but it had always just happened organically, in moments of passion. It had never come about so deliberately, and it felt odd, to just... start. Louis wanted to ask Harry to kiss him, to touch him... but Harry had said he was just watching.

Louis opened the bottle of lube, pausing when he realised he recognised the label. “Hey. This is actually one of the good ones, where'd you get it?”

“Um. Michael.” Harry blushed.

“Seriously? Your–” Louis stopped himself, not wanting to mention _uncles_ at a moment like this. “Okay, great.”

He upturned the bottle, letting it spill out over his fingers. He moved a hand down to his ass, running lube all over the skin around his rim, pressing just slightly when he met his hole. _Oui,_ it had been far too long since he'd last felt this.

Louis lifted his hand off again for more lube, and - feeling like some sort of perverted instructional video for Harry - he decided he should probably start with just a pinkie.

He slid in with ease, sighing, letting his finger sit there for a moment – purely for Harry's benefit – before starting to move in and out. It was only a pinkie, but he still actually felt tight. It had been a while, and it _felt_ like it had been a while since he'd his ass split apart by a nice cock.

The feeling was almost risqué, experiencing himself like that – as if, over here in America, at least this time around, Louis was still a virgin. He'd missed this, he'd been so preoccupied with fucking in Paris that he'd kind of forgotten to get _himself_ fucked enough, and – _fuck_ – he'd missed it.

Louis looked up at Harry, gauging his response. Harry was biting his lip, sat on his own hands to trap them. God, his cock looked nice, it looked even bigger now he'd been shaved – the kind of big that Louis needed, not a stupid pinkie finger.

Louis removed his pinkie, sliding his pointer finger inside himself instead. He wanted to shove his finger right in in, fuck himself as hard as one could with one finger, but Harry was _watching_ , unconsciously nodding, and Louis had to set a good, safe example. He moved his finger slowly in and out instead, getting a little deeper each time. The stretch over his own knuckle was nice, but it wasn't anywhere near enough. The thought of Harry's tight little hole was the only thing that kept Louis going slow, teaching Harry patience and care, moving in and out of himself, softly bucking his hips up into it.

After a moment he withdrew his hand, reached for the lube bottle -

“More?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes, more,” Louis laughed, voice unsteady as he applied lube to his finger.

“Wait a sec,” Harry said, rocking to the side to remove his hands from underneath himself. “If you don't mind.”

“Of course not,” Louis said, although if Harry was any closer he'd probably hear Louis' heartbeat, sense that his body _did_ mind taking a break, did mind a whole lot.

Harry stared at Louis so intensely it seemed his eyes had unfocussed. He moved his hand, hitting against Louis' ankle, nonsensically trailing one finger around it for a bit. His hand twitched, as if his finger was itching.

Harry then grabbed Louis' hand, slipping over the lube, but was able to fist up all of Louis' fingers but one. What was he – _ah._ Harry pulled Louis' hand down, guiding him back to his hole. Louis relaxed his arm, relinquishing control as Harry pushed Louis' finger inside, drawing it out and back in again.

“That's great.” Louis sighed happily, looking up at Harry.

Harry had put one finger of his other hand inside his own mouth, sucking at it so hard his cheeks were slightly concave. He was sliding his own finger in and out, slipping wet in between those lush pink lips.

Surely he wasn't imagining...

His finger came out with a loud pop, quickly asking Louis, “What does that feel like? Around your finger?”, still using his other hand to pull Louis out and in, excruciatingly slow.

“ _C'est-_ ” Distracted by the feeling, Louis had automatically spoken in French. He was interrupted by Harry saying, “No, in English.”

“Good, really good,” Louis started pathetically, as Harry returned his finger to mouth. “Er – fuck, ah – it's so good and.... _tight_ Harry, wrapped around my finger... feels so incredible to do this right in front of you, get to look at you sitting between my legs while I fuck myself.”

Harry made an " _Mmf!_ " sound in shock – had that been too much? But no; Harry nodded, talking thickly around his own finger. “What else?”

“It's so smooth and soft, like... velvet... warm and wet. God, you look so pretty right now Harry, I hope I look pretty like this, it's all for you.”

Harry smiled, absurdly pleased, and pressed, “What else, tell me what else?”

Louis spoke slowly, struggling to pull the English words out of his brain. “So strong and tight at the opening, right at the rim.” And Harry pulled Louis out until just Louis' fingertip was inside him. “Yes, right there.”

Harry pushed him almost all the way inside. “And then here?”

“It feels – so hot and soft, there's more...” what was the word, what was the fucking word - “More _give_ up there, like it's getting ready to fit-” Louis dropped his words, realising that would be too thoughtless. He couldn't talk to Harry about a cock up there, about how it felt so much better to feel bigger and smaller at once, to be _filled_ , feel a cock pushing against every part of you, to press a hand down on your belly and feel it move inside you, to be pounded with the type of power that can only come from someone's hips, not their wrist -

No, he couldn't, not when Harry wasn't anywhere near ready for that.

Harry pulled Louis' finger out completely, gently placing it to the side. Louis just kept it there, helplessly resting on the bedsheet.

“Here.” Harry took the bottle of lubricant up. Louis then held his finger out for him, but Harry squeezed out lube onto his _own_ finger. A lot of lube.

“Fucking _hell,_ Harry _,_ are you-”“May I?” Harry asked. _May I._ __Louis nodded. “By all means. Be gentle, yeah?”

Harry dropped his hand, prodding a slippery finger at Louis' perineum for a moment, causing Louis to breathe in sharply. Louis silently thanked his past self for showing that trick to Harry in the shower. Harry slid down, his fingertip resting up against Louis' hole with no pressure for a moment. He stroked curiously for a while, lips twitching in concentration. “Feels strange,” he commented.

“ _Too_ strange?”

“No... it's nice. Nice little butt hole.” Harry giggled, and _winked_. “Do I just...?”

“You can push in, _gently_ ,” Louis suggested.

Harry's finger slid in with ease – his knuckles were a bit bigger than Louis' own, Louis could feel it. “It just – went right in!” Harry said, completely surprised, not moving his finger at all.

“Yeah, that happens. Practice, I guess. Plus I'm.. you know, warmed up,” Louis muttered, trying to keep the embarrassed smile off his face. He felt so absurd to speak so sensibly when he had a _sixteen year old's finger up his ass_. Louis clenched himself around Harry's fingers, needing more, needing to feel it.

“Oh, are you-”“No, sorry, it just feels nice,” Louis explained, definitely embarrassed.“Do it again?”Louis tightened himself around Harry's finger once more, then relaxed again.

“Wow.” Harry breathed out. “That's – wow.”

Harry started to slide in and out, a similar rhythm to what he'd had Louis' finger doing just before. It was very nice, and the fact that it was _Harry's_ finger this time around made it even better, but it wasn't enough. It was a drop of water to a man in a desert, it was a grain of rice to a starving mother, Louis needed so much _more_ of Harry.

“Can you – I mean, if you want, would you put another finger in, please?” Louis requested. Harry's eyes watched Louis' face as he went to slide two fingers in.

“Ow!” Louis said sharply, wishing Harry had been looking down at what he was doing, because his fingernail had just caught on the edge of Louis' hole, snagging his skin slightly, making him sting. “ _Careful_.”

“I'm sorry!” Harry sounded so devastated that Louis had to reassure him.“It's fine! It's your first time.” (Fuck, it was Harry's _first time doing this_.) “Mistakes happen.”

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” Harry repeated. “Do you want me to kiss it b-” and he just trailed off there, a flicker of anguish on his face.

It killed Louis to not hear the rest of that sentence. Instead, Harry dropped his gaze, cautiously pushing in two fingers in, entering Louis much more smoothly this time.

 _Yes_. Christ, yes. Louis felt his rim burn just faintly, relaxing to fit so nicely over Harry's fingers.

Harry started to slide his two fingers in and out, just incrementally, his angle precisely consistent. “Am I doing it right?” he asked uncertainly.

“ _Oui_. Well, you can move around a bit more... You can – like.... you know... _ciseaux_ ,” Louis tried feebly.

“Come on, Louis,” Harry said, coaxing with his fingers. “You need to try harder with your English.”

“Scissors!” Louis shouted, having remembered the word. “With your fingers-” the sentence ending in a gasp as he felt Harry slowly push him apart, a wonderful, mildly hot burn as he stretched even more.

“Could you go a bit deeper? Only if you want.”

Harry slid his fingers in. “Yeah?”

“More, s'il te plaît... _harder_.”

Harry _pushed_ , Louis felt himself stretch over the base of Harry's fingers as the rest of his fist pushed at the side of his rim.

“Oui,” Louis whimpered, trying to push his hips down even harder.

Harry's fingers slid out, still so fucking slowly, positively _gliding_ inside Louis like they were always meant to be inside him, easing Louis' rim over his middle knuckles again before pushing firmly in again.

Louis let his back sink in hard against the mattress below him, watching Harry who looked so deep in concentration, soft wet squelches sounding between them. Harry felt good, really, although Louis was already aching with how much it was still not enough.

“Can you.... can you move your fingers like – _fuck_ , what's the fucking word, ah – you know...” Louis moaned, frustrated with how blank his mind was. “ _Beckon!_ ”

“Same in English.” Harry smiled, curling his fingers up.

“ _Oui_ , right there!” Louis gasped, body shuddering.

Harry's fingers slid right out in surprise then, leaving Louis miserably empty. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, love, no. Opposite,” Louis said, wiping off the drops of precome he'd left on his stomach. His stupid, slightly pudgy, Americanised stomach. “Have you had enough?”

“No,” Harry said, fingertips nudging at Louis' hole.“Could you put three in?” Louis blurted out.“Three!? _No_ , I'll hurt you!!” Harry gasped.Louis held back a laugh. “Three will be fine, it will feel great. You don't have to though.” “Have you ever had three fingers before?” Harry challenged.

Louis did laugh, then. “Yes.”

That seemed to spark at Harry's jealous side. “Okay, fine. I want to do it too.”

Then for some absurd reason, Harry asked, “What's 'three' in French?”

“What?”

“How do you say 'three' in French?”

“Trois,” Louis said, and he could think of at _least_ three things he'd rather be doing right now than a fucking French lesson.

“ _Trois,_ ” Harry murmured, slowly sliding three fingers right into Louis. He didn't quite get how to tuck them in together and – fuck it, Louis would teach him that some other day, because Harry's wide spread of fingers were causing his ass to strain hard around them, pushed to the limit of how far he could go before he was more warmed up than this. Louis' ass felt so strong and tight, physically glowing, having to consciously relax, and fuck, _yes_.

When Harry got to the base of his fingers he pushed up hard into Louis again, curling his fingers.

“ _Merde_ , oui, right there Harry.” Louis nodded. He reached for a pillow to bite into, but they were both under his ass.

He just let himself groan out loud. Harry was infuriatingly inexperienced and it was such a tease, it was so fucking hot. Harry would hit Louis' prostate right on, sending little bubbles of pleasure right across his cock and lower belly and upper thighs, but then moments later he'd lose it completely, thrusting his fingers somewhat aimlessly. Louis tried to move his hips to get Harry _there_ again, but it only seemed to make the situation worse, Harry finding and losing him again over and over with no rhythm to it.

Louis' cock was lying against his stomach in a small pool of precome. He wanted to come so badly, come with his ass clenched tight around Harry's fingers, but Harry didn't seem to quite yet have the skill to get him there. Louis wiped his belly again, pausing when Harry slid his fingers right out again, leaving Louis' slightly stretched hole clenching against nothing. “Hey.” Harry said sharply. “Mine.”

Louis wasn't sure what he -

“I earned that. It's mine,” Harry said, grabbing Louis' wrist with a lubed up hand, bringing it up to his mouth so he could lick the precome off Louis' fingers.

Louis took advantage of that position, and once his hand was licked clean he took Harry's jaw in his fingers. “Fucking _hell,_ Harry.”

“Language,” Harry scolded, hypocritically holier-than-thou as he applied more lube to his three fingers, settling back down to finger Louis again.

“You can go harder now,” Louis said, starting to lose his breath. Harry obliged, moving in and out of Louis faster, rougher.

He couldn't deal with Harry, curls limp from the shower, probably wet with sweat now too, cheeks and lips somehow even redder than before. Louis dropped his eyes – a grave mistake, as his eyes met Harry's hard cock, getting just as red as other bits of him, stood firm, unattended to. It was too much to bear – Harry's three fingers felt so intense and Louis felt like it was a good fit - but Harry's dick had to be at least three times wider than his three fingers, and that - _that_ would be a good fit. Louis thought he could cry, wondering if he would _ever_ get that cock buried inside his ass.

Louis wanted to scream, Harry kept hitting his prostate so unpredictably, sending his body into shock each time. He wanted to _beg_ Harry to fuck him – and he didn't even really care for being fucked _that much_ but right now it was the only thing that he wanted – but he didn't think Harry wanted it.

Louis resigned himself, aggressively grabbing his cock in his fist, but Harry pushed Louis away with his spare hand, and he started “I can-” but his voice wavered. He cleared his throat, more determined this time; “ _I can do it!_ ”, snatching up Louis' cock and jerking him at the exact same pace as he was thrusting his fingers in and out, making it feel almost like Louis was fucking himself in a way.

Louis squeezed the lube bottle over himself, letting it run wet and smooth over his cock in Harry's hand. The bottle was starting to feel a bit lighter now, he'd have to buy more – well, _hopefully_ he'd have to buy more.

It was all so slippery, it sounded so amazingly _wet_ , and Harry was concentrating so deeply that for once he didn't seem driven criminally insane by his own erection, all he seemed to care about in that moment was Louis and his pleasure.

Louis felt himself building, then ebbing away again under Harry's inconsistent touch, but the build was coming more often now -

“Could you keep your fingers still, Harry? Just leave them inside, nice and deep?” Louis panted out.

Harry hesitated, then pushed his three fingers in completely. After a second he pushed even harder, his first set of knuckles straining against the outside of Louis' taut rim.

“Beckon again, not too hard, and press th- _FUCK, Harry,_ right there!” Louis yelled as Harry continued jerking him off with his other hand. “Right there, right there, right there,” Louis chanted, feeling like everything was swelling and tingling and throbbing and about to _burst_.

“Don't you dare take your hand out,” Louis gasped quickly. “I mean, please don't, only if it's o-”

“Of course it's okay, don't be an idiot," Harry interrupted gently, hand still flying over Louis' cock. “I wouldn't dare... feels so good to be inside you.”

“Can you say that again?” Louis whispered.“It feels-” Harry said, much more firmly, jaw tight in concentration as he looked deep into Louis' eyes, jerking his cock even harder. “So good – to be – _inside you._ ”

Louis came, furiously and deliberately, spurting all over Harry's fist that kept moving up and down, ass bearing down against Harry's fingers, who, fucking _bless him_ , kept them pressed in deep.

Louis felt like he was coming up for air, he'd come so hard that a faint headache was starting to creep up on him, he hadn't had a release that good since he'd come to America.

Harry slowly slid his fingers out.“Come here, baby,” Louis said, reaching for Harry.“Can I just wash my hands first?” Harry asked apologetically.

“Of course! Of course, go!” Louis said, moving the pillows out from under himself. One had a large damp spot of lube on it – and, what a shame, it looked like Harry would have to use Louis as a pillow tonight.

Harry got off the bed and walked to the bathroom. Louis watched him walk – naked, his cute little ass moving with his legs – and got up to follow, feeling the ghost of Harry's fingers still inside him. Louis walked a bit heavily, trying to prolong the feeling.

Harry was running his hands under the tap. Louis squirted some soap into his own hands and placed his own on top of Harry's, massaging as he washed them for him.

“I'm just going to have a quick rinse off. Don't suppose you can go to sleep now?”Harry pulled back from the sink, gesturing soapy hands at himself – still completely hard. “Stay like that for me,” Louis whispered, kissing him before entering the shower.

\-----

Harry sat on the bed, naked, waiting to hear the shower turn off. After only a couple of minutes it did, and Louis returned to the main room, bare chested with his sweatpants on.

Harry ruffled his curls up, pushing them to the side so his hair was out of his eyes. Louis' expression softened to a incredibly warm smile, so completely _fond_. He crossed the room swiftly, kneeling on the bed in front of where Harry sat, and kissed him.

“Hey, 'ow are you?” Louis asked. He always did that, checked in on Harry after they'd done something. He was trying to be nice, but Harry was kind of forced to admit that he _did_ like the things they did, which wasn't a great thing to admit.

He liked what they did a lot. Not in a gay way, of course. He just liked learning about stuff. And he liked having Louis' attention solely on him.

Harry couldn't answer with words, just kissed Louis back instead, forgetting for now the fact that in twelve hours he'd be on camera, hosting his own TV show, probably telling boys to _not_ kiss other boys. Harry's mouth felt funny, in a good way, from kissing all afternoon and all evening. Louis' lips were as smooth as ever, his stubble feeling rough against where he'd been rubbing against Harry's face for the past few hours. Harry reached for Louis' hand, pulling it towards where he was still painfully hard.

“'Arry.” Louis resisted, as if he hadn't just told Harry to _stay like that for me_.

“ _Please_ don't leave me like this,” Harry whined.

“You promised you'd go to sleep after I showed you what I just showed you.”

Harry dropped Louis' hand, face falling too. Louis was right, Harry had promised. He couldn't break a promise.

“Hey, it's okay.” Louis winked, his thumb stroking Harry's cheek. “I'll give you a free pass. So, what do you want me to do? How can I wear you out so you finally go to sleep?”

“There's... something,” Harry said flatly. He wouldn't dare say the actual thing out loud though. He couldn't ask for _that_.

“Something?” Louis asked, leaving kisses where his hand had just left Harry's cheek.

“Never mind. Anyway...” The silence stretched. “Um, I liked doing that to you. Just before.”

“Do you want me to do the same to you?”

“I'm not gay!” Harry protested hotly.

Louis leant back, rolling his eyes. “What you _do_ doesn't necessarily make you gay.”

Which made Harry felt better.... and then worse. If it wasn't the _stuff_ that you did that made you gay, then maybe it was who you did it with, and Harry had only ever done things with _Louis_.

“Do you _want_ me to?” Louis tried again. Harry interrupted him. “I can't.”

“Can't?”“Exactly. Doesn't matter what I want. Not saying I do or don't want it! I just can't.”

Louis paused, then leant forward again, continuing to kiss Harry's cheeks. He offered, “I can still make you feel good. Without putting my fingers – or anything else - in you.”

Harry's heart began to hammer – surely Louis didn't know, there was no way he'd do _that_. “What do you mean?” Harry whispered.

“Like this,” Louis whispered back. He pressed a kiss at the very back point of Harry's jaw, tongue licking firmly through tight lips. “Wherever you want.”

Harry nodded, desperately – _gosh_ , Louis did know about _that_ – he probably knew all about it. “Where do you want it?”“You know where.”

“You've got to _say_ where, 'Arry. I can't just guess,” Louis urged. He had a way of looking at Harry sometimes – and Harry had seen him look at other people this way too – so calm and confident, completely containing whatever was below the surface behind this incredibly cool exterior.

Louis just kept _looking_ at Harry.“Never mind, it's stupid anyway.” Harry sighed. “Oh, hey. _Show_ me, then,” Louis suggested.

Harry couldn't do what Louis had done; he couldn't lie on the bed all exposed and propped up in the air, he'd _die_ of embarrassment. He already felt like he was dying, though, he'd never had an erection for this long, it honestly _hurt_.

Harry turned around, to kneel on the bed facing away from Louis.

“You'll take care of me, won't you Louis?” Harry asked softly, not quite believing this was about to happen.

“The very best,” Louis said warmly. “Do you want to lean up on your hands?” Harry leant forward, feeling like he was sat like an obedient dog.“Hips up too, if you think you can,” Louis guided.Harry could, he definitely could.

And just like that, it _was_ happening; Louis' hands were at the sides of Harry's hips, his calves on the mattress in between Harry's calves, planting kisses and gentle bites across the flesh of his ass, getting closer and closer inward.

“So nice and clean, 'Arry.” Louis breathed in appreciatively. “You smell like _my_ shaving cream.” “Yours,” slipped out of Harry's mouth.

“Mine,” Louis repeated in awe, squeezing Harry's hips.

Louis nuzzled at Harry, settling his face right in the middle of Harry's ass. Harry could feel his warm breath, his mouth so very close to the very base of Harry, where he ended. It felt so intimate. No one had ever, ever seen Harry like this, no one had been this close to him. If he had a choice of anyone else – it would always be Louis.

Louis kissed Harry, a slow line across the sides of his hole, before placing a kiss right _on_ the rim of his asshole. It tickled, but not in the way that made you want jerk away. Harry just gasped, wanting more of of Louis' lips.

As if he could read Harry's mind, Louis opened his mouth a little bit and kissed wider, a bit wet this time. Harry let out a strangled yelp. He felt himself tighten, just out of a reflex. It made him think of Louis' ass, tightly gripping Harry's finger. Oh, God...

Louis' lips kept moving, right on Harry and then trailing far enough away across his ass that Harry had to move his hips, trying to get Louis back to that spot, that spot where it was so unbelievably sensitive.

Harry actually couldn’t believe it - _Louis' lips were on his hole._

Louis' small hands were cupping Harry's ass too. He pushed up and to the sides, gently spreading Harry out. Louis buried his face in with renewed enthusiasm, lips wrapping tight to cover right around Harry's hole and he sucked, Harry could actually _hear_ it. He could also hear himself squealing like a pig – for some strange reason he felt like he could feel it all the way to his dick, as if Louis did that long enough, Harry could come from that alone. Impossible.

Louis drew back, and asked, “Is this all right, 'Arry?”Harry stayed silent. He didn't dare say it out loud, that he wanted this, that he _liked_ this.

“Is it not okay?” Louis then asked, hands easing off. Harry felt his ass cheeks fall slightly back down.

“It's not _not_ okay,” Harry ventured.

“What?”

“It's not that I don't not like it! I don't dislike it, I mean, it isn't not likeable-”

Louis let go completely then, laughing. “You're confusing me. The English language is absurd. Should we stop?”

“No!” Harry all but yelled. “I like it, _I like it_!”

The intense strain in his crotch had grown to be way too much, though. He needed touch so bad, but he'd already done that to himself once tonight and he absolutely could not do it twice even in one week, let alone in one day.

Harry hotly dropped back down against himself, squeezing his dick between his thighs and his stomach. His ass felt cold, where air was meeting the wet spit Louis had left on him. He buried his face into the pillow in front of him, his holler muffled by the fabric. “Please keep going!”

“Ass up, 'Arry,” Louis said, like an order. Harry knew he didn't _have_ to though, and he couldn't make himself move from how he was. He stayed folded up – stomach pressed into his thighs, sandwiching his dick, then thighs pressed down into his calves, shoulders and chin shoved down into the bed in front of him.

Harry _could_ make it easier for Louis, though. Burning hot with a little humiliation and a lot of desire, he reached his hands around, pulling his own butt cheeks up and apart, just like Louis had.

“ _T'es excité,_ ” Louis commented, running his hands slowly down Harry's back. Harry didn't know for certain what that meant, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

“Stop talking,” Harry begged – if Louis could give orders, so could Harry. “Get back to m-” and his words were gone into a loud slur of vowels as Louis's beautiful mouth came back to him. Louis didn't kiss this time, he _licked._

Harry had not expected it to feel like this, to be such a strong, intensely pleasant feeling. His thighs started to get hot and damp, half from sweat and half from precome - and thank goodness for that because he had already waited a really long time to get to come.

“Spread your legs?” This time it was a question - not an order – from Louis. Harry whined, clenching his thighs harder up against his cock. “I promised I'd take good care of you,” Louis reminded him, voice silky and alluring.

Harry took a few deep breaths, willing himself to have some control over his own body. He pushed his knees out across the bed, leaning forward into his shoulders so he could raise his hips higher in the air, pulling his ass even further apart with his own hands.

Louis' fingers slid up along the inside of Harry's thigh. “Mmm, getting wet,” Louis said quietly. One hand wrapped around Harry's bare balls, the other finally, fucking _finally_ grabbing the head of Harry's cock. “Very wet,” Louis commented with pride.

His mouth came back to Harry's hole with much better access now. As Louis' hand slid down along Harry's cock, his tongue lapped up across Harry's hole. He kept alternating between a soft, relaxed tongue, dripping wet with spit, and a tight pointed one that pressed into Harry's flesh, bumping over that tiny patch of rippled skin. Either way felt impossibly good, tingling sensations from that small spot shooting right through Harry's body.

Harry felt like a huge idiot, he couldn't believe he'd never tried playing with his own ass before, it felt better than anything. It didn't seem to stop, either. It wasn't like a shoulder massage where the first few squeezes were electric but then the feeling eased back and plateaued there, no. Each lick of Louis' tongue was as good as the one before. _Better_ than the one before, because Louis kept getting firmer, wetter, pausing to kiss and suck and -

He even _nibbled_ at the skin to the side then, teeth very gentle, but definitely teeth. “Fuck, Louis,” Harry mewed.

“Swearing, 'Arry?” Louis purred back, issuing words _right against Harry's asshole_ , before continuing to work his mouth on Harry. Each lap and bite made Harry's whole body shudder with pleasure, digging his own fingernails harder into his skin, he couldn't see but he was pretty sure his cock was dripping right down onto the bedspread.

Harry was so completely _gone_ in that moment, he never wanted to be anywhere else except on a hotel bed with his ass pressed up wet against Louis' face, Louis' nimble fingers working the most precious parts of him. He didn't care about any of the rules. He didn't give a damn, especially not

about swearing. “ _Fuck!_ ” he bellowed, so loud it stung his throat. “ _Fuck me!_ ”Then Louis' mouth and hands were gone from where it mattered, and he was roughly yanking

Harry over to lie on his back, both legs to Louis' side.

“ _Ta Gueule!_ ” Louis hissed, positively outraged. His hand twitched sharply, before he jerkily clenched it into a fist. “Jesus Christ 'Arry, our coworkers are in this hotel, they know your voice! Are you trying to get me fired?!”

“I'm sorry!” Harry gasped. He hadn't meant to say it at _all_ , let alone yell it. “I didn't mean it.” “Good!” Louis said sharply. “And even if you _did_ , I won't reward such naughty behaviour! I can't

believe you!”

Harry squirmed, sweaty back dragging against the sheets below him, so frustrated and ashamed of himself that tears were pooling in his eyes, he _still hadn't finished._ Louis was right, though. Harry shouldn't be rewarded, he should be punished. He was so messed up, messed up for saying – no, _yelling_ that, messed up for doing all these things, messed up for wanting more.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so bad.”

Louis leant over him, tenderly wiping at the corner of his eyes. “No, you're my – you're a good boy, 'Arry. I know you didn't mean it. You're very, very good. I promised I'd take care of you. If you still want me to?”

Harry mouthed _yes_ , daring not to make another sound. He was aching, the feeling only increasing when Louis reached for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirting out a small amount and rubbing it between his palms. It almost hurt a little bit when Louis' two hands met Harry's cock, moving expertly, strong and skilled.

Harry could sense _that_ feeling building up, the intensity pushing out of his stomach and his balls and his dick, and now it was at his freaking _ass_ too, but this time it didn't find release. It just kept growing and growing. It was _so frustrating_.

“Louis, I don't know if I can,” Harry said, voice thick with tension.“Oui, you can,” Louis reassured him. “You're a good boy, I know you can. I want you to come for me, 'Arry, be a good boy, _come for me._ ”

Louis ducked his head right down, licking at Harry's balls. He wiped one hand off on the sheet and then reached way up, fumbling over Harry's nose for a split second before finding his mouth and clamping down over it. Below, Louis' mouth opened wide, wrapping right around Harry's balls and running his tongue around them, sucking audibly.

Louis' hand squeezed extra tight around Harry's cock. Harry nodded desperately behind Louis' hand, signalling a hum of, “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” as quietly as he could, using his own hand to push Louis' in tighter over his mouth because he was going to scream, he was going to come -

Louis' hand slowed right down as Harry spurted come all over his own stomach, creamy white splatters landing right up at his chest. Louis drew it out, Harry felt like he was coming for twice as long as he'd ever done before. It took a moment before Louis came to a complete stop. He didn't lift his mouth right off Harry, but just started moving his mouth up and along – a lightly pressured lick right along the length of Harry's cock made his whole body jerk – and then Louis' mouth met Harry's stomach, humming with pleasure as he slowly licked at Harry, savouring his pearly come.

Harry twisted Louis' hand off his mouth, intertwining their fingers. Louis came up, laying down next to Harry, softly smiling at him.

Harry wanted to kiss Louis. He didn't mind the come so much, but Louis' mouth had been on Harry's _butt_. He still really, really wanted to kiss him.

“Lou?” he started, tentatively.

“Oui?”

“Is it... gay, if I kiss you after that?”

Louis' expression didn't change, which had to be deliberate for Harry's sake. He gently rephrased Harry's question; “Is it gay for you to kiss a man?”

Harry's throat felt tight.

“How about I go brush my teeth?” Louis said, pardoning Harry from that topic of conversation. “You get under the covers.”

Harry tucked himself in, reminding himself that once this night was over, it was one night closer to the show being done and getting to be back at home in his own bed. His head started to get cloudy with drowsiness, faintly hearing the sound of Louis brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

He was half asleep before Louis got back in the bed. Somewhere in his brain he registered Louis, silky-soft yet pleasantly muscular, always warm and strong, curling right up against Harry's back, wrapping his arms around Harry, his nose and lips resting at the back of Harry's neck.

“Bonne nuit, petit-ami,” Louis rhymed in singsong, turning off the light.

 


	9. Chapter 9

There'd been a brief few moments in New York with Harry when Louis had felt all the weight lifted off his shoulders, the ennui Paris burned into him had completely eased. Something else now filled the hole it had left, though. Louis could _feel_ himself weigh heavier as he sat up in bed. A Hollywood hotel suite with a naked teenage boy was _not_ where a man in his thirties should be waking up.

There wasn't really anywhere else he'd rather be, though.

Linda's message came through, ever-reliable, at 5am. _Optional team breakfast @ hotel restaurant, 8am. Meet in lobby at 12pm for tour bus / cars to Universal City Walk._

Louis locked his phone screen and tossed it aside as he got out of bed, heading for the bathroom. Harry had awoken too; Louis saw his green eyes peer under the duvet in the direction of his crotch. Harry groaned, sitting up.

When Louis returned from the bathroom, Harry was knelt upright on the floor, hands folded on the mattress, head bent in prayer and his pajama pants tented impressively with this morning's waking erection. As Louis got closer, he heard Harry softly reciting the Lord's prayer.

Something about the sight pinched Louis in his chest. Harry looked so obedient there, palms flat together, head bent forward in reverence, completely ignoring his own erection. With his halo of brown curls he looked like the children you see drawn in picture books, obediently saying prayers with their folded hands up on the bed each morning and night.

Harry had never been that obedient for Louis, especially not when he was hard – he'd turn into a squirming, whimpering mess until Louis dealt with it. Which Louis didn't mind at all, he liked being needed by Harry. He loved when Harry was hard and Harry's urgent desperation was so hot.

This display of servitude was something completely different... and just as intoxicating.Harry wasn't supposed to start the day with god. He was supposed to start the day with Louis.

It was ridiculous to be jealous of god, because Louis didn't believe god existed. But Harry did, and Harry was kneeling for god. Instead of in front of Louis.

That wasn't okay. It really should have been, but it wasn't. Louis had hated seeing Harry fit in with his family and now he hated seeing Harry belonging to god – Harry was _Louis'_ , and Louis needed to remind him of that.

Louis stood with his feet either side of Harry's calves on the floor. He bent one knee forward, gently but deliberately, to meet Harry's back. Harry stopped praying. He didn't turn around but he leant his head to the side, questioning. Louis kept pushing his knee against Harry's spine, guiding him forward, until Harry's front was against the side of the mattress.

“Yeah?” Louis checked.

“What are you-” Harry began to ask. Louis cut him off with a firm push of his knee, pressing Harry's hips into the mattress, sandwiching his cock between his belly and the bed.

Harry let out a soft moan, then took a deep breath in. “Oh. I - um, yeah,” Harry said quietly, still not looking up.

“Keep going, then,” Louis said.

Harry closed his eyes and opened his lips. “Our father, who art in hea-” He stopped with a sharp breath as Louis pushed his knee even harder into Harry's lower back, causing Harry to squeeze his cock as firmly as possible into the side of the mattress. Louis just paused there, keeping the pressure steady, thinking about Harry growing harder from Louis' touch. Louis was in control here, Louis was what Harry would remember from this morning. Not god.

Harry swallowed and then continued. “Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

Louis began to nudge at Harry, making him rock on his knees. It can't have been comfortable but Harry _did it for Louis_ , his head tipping back and fourth just slightly to keep up with the movement of his body. Harry kept praying out loud, his voice becoming less even with every line, taking bigger breaths in each pause.

By the time Harry had finished the prayer and started it over again a second time, Louis wasn't so much guiding Harry as just following him, Harry softly fucking himself against the mattress as he recited the prayer, voice jerking along with his timid thrusts.

Harry's hands were still folded flat together, his elbows digging down so hard they were creating small valleys in the bed.

Louis let his knee fall back and just _watched_ as Harry moved faster against the bed and let his mouth rush over the words. Louis wondered if Harry had ever prayed so fervently in his life; “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for... for – for the-”

Harry's face hit the bed in front of him, head in between his wrists, hands clasping so hard his knuckles were white. He bit down on the sheets as he whimpered, still roughly thrusting his hips against the mattress.

“ _Louis,_ ” he hissed into the sheets, and Louis' chest filled with pride, because that was right, that's who's name should be on Harry's lips, not _our father in heaven_ but, “ _Louis,_ ” Harry urged more frantically, his hips moving faster, drawing Louis in.

Louis squatted down, balanced over Harry's calves, sliding his hands around to Harry's front. Harry's hands flew to his pajama pants, undoing the waist tie and tugging his them down.

Harry stopped crooking his hips into the bed and paused, seemingly expectant.“Can you... do you want to?” Harry asked, head turned slightly to the side. “ _I_ want you to.”

Louis slowly wrapped a hand around Harry's cock – Christ, he was _hard_ – and gave a very firm squeeze. “Is this what you want?” Louis asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry spoke so firmly that Louis didn't have to ask twice.Harry's stomach twitched as Louis slid his hand up Harry's dick, fingers meeting Harry's tip, wet

with precome.

Harry's sweaty hands clawed at Louis' forearms so Louis ordered him; “Hands together again. Finish your prayer.” He'd sort of expected Harry to to ignore him, surely he'd abandoned it now, but he actually started up where he'd left off,

“For the kingdom... the power...”

Louis moved his hand up and down Harry's cock almost lazily as the boy did more than half the work, his hips still thrusting. Louis' fist was pressed in between Harry's stomach and the mattress, tightening his grip around him. Louis was painfully aware that Harry was big enough that Louis' thumb couldn't even meet his middle finger.

Harry interrupted himself again, “Louis. Louis, fu-” Harry _almost_ swore, “Lou, I'm-”

“Are you going to come?” Louis asked softly, a little stern, slowing his hand down to at least delay the inevitable. “You gonna come right here in the middle of your morning prayers? Is that what you want to do?”

Harry nodded, breathing out through his nose as he slowed his hips down to be even with Louis' hand again. He heavily whimpered in agreement. “Mm-hm.”

“Do you want to come like this, on your knees right in front of me? You want to come right into my hand?”

Harry's voice was much higher this time. “Mm-hm!”. His hips weren't moving with abandon as they had been a moment ago; Harry thrust in a deliberate rhythm now. Louis realised with amazement that Harry was pacing himself. For the first time ever Harry seemed to be able to hold himself back a tad, and he was doing it for _Louis_.

“You're such a good boy,” Louis murmured, lips against Harry's neck. “Yeah?” Harry said, still breathy and high. “ _Bon garçon,_ right?”

“Right.” Louis chuckled. “You're _so_ good for me, Harry.” Louis sped his fist right up again, jerking at Harry hard. “Come on _mon petit-ami_ , you can come for me now.”

Harry whined loudly through gritted teeth, folded hands dragging the sheets as he drew into himself. His whole body jerked and shook, Louis' lips chasing Harry's neck to kiss him as he came. Hot and wet spurts landing right into the palm of Louis' hand that he kept carefully in place.

“Finish,” Louis said quietly.“I just did!” Harry laughed, catching his breath.“No. The prayer.” Louis bit his own lip, sure he'd pushed it too far, but;“For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever, am-”Louis cut off Harry's _amen_ , bringing a dripping wet hand up to Harry's mouth. “Lick it up.”

Harry obeyed, running his tongue over Louis' palm, making soft slurping sounds as he did his best to lick Louis clean. After a minute Harry wriggled awkwardly, untangling his legs from between Louis' as he turned around to face him, stuck in the small space between Louis and the bed.

Louis watched in awe as Harry opened his mouth slowly – Harry's nervousness was clear in his eyes but Louis missed it all for Harry's perfectly pink tongue, clouded with his come still on it.

Louis lunged forward, grabbing Harry's head to get his tongue inside that mouth straight away, now pressing Harry's back hard against the mattress as he drank it all up, the way Harry tasted like Harry and like the morning and like Harry's own fucking come.

Louis pushed Harry up onto the bed and lay down by him, arm draped over Harry's stomach, his mouth and nose buried in Harry's curls. Louis wanted to ask, “Was that okay?” but of course it wasn't fucking okay, to interrupt someone while they were _praying_.

Harry was nuzzling into Louis' chest and sighing happy hums though, perfectly content. He seemed fine with it.

Louis just couldn't shake his own guilt; he was the adult here. _I should know better._

Next thing Louis knew, Harry was shaking him awake again with a, “Come on, breakfast time,” and Louis was too drowsy to remember he had no interest in eating with the Modern Missionary crew. He dressed and followed Harry to the elevator, down to the ground floor, and out into the hotel lobby.

A dark-haired man was heading back towards the elevator, chin bent down holding two very full grocery bags against his chest, nose almost parallel to the floor. Louis was sure he recognised the face though: British-Pakistani supermodel Zayn Malik, who'd been immensely successful over the past few years. There'd been absolute pandemonium when he'd opened an Oscar de la Renta show, his tattooed body completely perfect in a floor-length silk gown. He could get away with wearing anything – Louis had seen him at many black-tie functions dressed more like a spy from a comic book.

“Zayn?” Louis said when he was within earshot.The man's eyes looked up, chin still balancing his shopping bags. “Tommo?!”

Louis relieved him of one of the bags and kissed him on each cheek. “God you're looking _good_ , Zee.” And he was. Zayn exclusively dated women, but Louis had heard rumours that he wasn't so discriminatory when it came to sex itself. Somehow Louis had missed the opportunity – it wasn't fair, really. Although, christ - Zayn was physical _perfection_ , unjustly beautiful. Louis would probably be too flustered to get it up around him.

“Heard you were in New York, babe! What brings you to LA?” Zayn asked.

Harry cleared his throat. Louis clapped a hand on his shoulder. “This one.”

Zayn clicked his fingers a few times, trying to place Harry's face. “You're from that...”

“Harry Styles, Modern Missionary,” Harry introduced himself proudly.

“That's the one. Seen the ads on – well, everywhere.”

“Are you going to watch the first episode? It airs tonight,” Harry asked brightly.

“Probably not, it's not really my scene. I'm Muslim,” Zayn revealed, politely ignoring Harry's very shocked expression and turning back to Louis. “How long are you here, Tommo?”

“Just another night, you?”“Live here,” Zayn admitted a humble smile. “Got a bit sick of London, needed a change.”

“I know that feeling.” Louis nodded. “Needed a change myself so I took the job here in America. You up in the penthouse?” he dared ask.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “ _Sub_ -penthouse. Only third from the top.” “Kitchen? _Oven_?”“'Course.”“Bath?”

“Hot tub.”“Oh, _Zayn_.” Louis practically moaned.Zayn laughed. “Come up for breakfast, if you want.” _Oui_ , Louis wanted. He absolutely wanted some healthy food, breakfast away from the MM crew,

and to cheekily flick through whatever racy photos Zayn's latest celebrity girlfriend had sent him – but there was Harry.

Harry who seemed to lack subtly at some of the most crucial times. Harry who'd all but screamed the hotel walls down in a fit of passion last night.

Zayn had a _hot tub_ though, and he'd surely invite Louis to kick back in there with him, with some essential oils and a bottle of wine so Louis was nice and relaxed for work in the afternoon.

At the Modern Missionary team breakfast they'd probably hold hands and _pray_ , just like Harry's family had done before breakfast.

Zayn would definitely have a really good coffee machine.

Louis squared his shoulders towards Harry, hating the way he had to duck his head just slightly to get to his eye level, and gently wrapped one hand against the side of Harry's neck. Harry leant, ever so slightly, into Louis' touch.

“I'm going up to Zayn's for the morning. Do just _think_ before you open your mouth, all right?” Harry blushed, eyes darting up at Zayn in fear.

Zayn had a habit of often appearing slightly bored, but he was watching this particular interaction with a mild curiosity, his dark eyes revealing a lot more understanding than Louis would have liked.

“I've got it under control,” Harry said. “See you at work.” Hesitancy crossed his face for just a second, before he rushed away to the restaurant.

Zayn took Louis up to a very nice apartment. It was well-decorated but a faint odour of paint permeated every room. He put together a decidedly non-American breakfast, placing it in front of Louis at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. They gossiped about work friends they had in common, chatted about their predictions for next fashion week, and talked more about why they'd both moved to America – Zayn had gotten engaged not too long ago, and had wanted to make a fresh start with his future wife away from London. Louis hadn't disliked Zayn when they'd met before, but he seemed a lot more mellow than he had when he was right in the heart of the fashion industry. The move seemed to have done him good – Louis wondered if the same was happening to him… or if he'd only gotten worse. Zayn tried to steer the conversation towards Harry a couple times, but respected Louis' steering it back again.

“Hey, we should have a few drinks here tonight,” Zayn suggested as he began stacking their breakfast plates into the dishwasher. “I'll invite a few mates round. You can meet my girl, too.” He strode back over to the breakfast bar, putting a half-full perfume bottle to the side as he fumbled through some other assorted mess.

“That would be great.” Louis nodded, picking up the bottle. “Hey, Gucci. This is one of mine.” “Don't ever claim Gucci as you,” Zayn said, taking the bottle back.“ _Vraiment désolé_ , princess,” Louis joked. “We can't all be the face of the fragrance.”

“Here we go.” Zayn had found what he was looking for: a CD. “Little Mix, see? Perrie's the blonde.”

“Wow, she's gorgeous. Hey, could I bring Harry tonight? Would your mates – you know, be cool with that?”

“You want a kid around? At a party?” Zayn looked at Louis dubiously.

“He's a teenager, not a kid,” Louis pointed out – he didn't know if there was a difference, but 'teenager' didn't _sound_ as bad. “He'll be fun. I just... don't want people to get the wrong idea, if they see him here with me.”

“Sure, bring him. It'll be all good people, don't worry. Nothing too big. Still...” Zayn hesitated. “Still?” Louis prompted.“It's not going to be like this with him forever, you know.”“Oh, it's... Of course not. We're just friends,” Louis tried.

“Whatever you're up to - just _happening_ to get the same elevator as the kid this morning. Or sneaking the kid – sorry, the _teenager_ \- into a party tonight.” Zayn paused, lips pursed in thought.

“What do you mean?” Louis asked. “You can be real with me.”

“All right, you asked for it. He's not always going to be sixteen. This thrill that goes along with his age will be gone soon, right? If you're into him because he's a teenager, then you're not going to be into him for long. He'll grow up, in a few years he'll just be another adult. And then what? Onto the next kid you find?”

“ _Merde_ , no, it's not like that at all,” Louis muttered, feeling a little hot in the ears. Zayn fixed Louis with a piercing gaze, like he could see right through him – straight into his attraction to Harry.

“Save the laser eyes for your next cover,” Louis scoffed. “ _It's not like that._ ”

\-----

12pm came around quickly. Harry followed Linda out the back entrance of the hotel, crazy excited for an afternoon of filming in front of a large audience. One of the social media girls jumped in front of Harry and snapped a photo of him as he surveyed the parking lot. All the crew were there, some filing into the company cars, some crossing off checklists, the roadies loading tech equipment into the side of the tour bus.

The _bus._ Harry knew there'd be a bus but he hadn't prepared himself for anything like this. A double-decker bus with tinted windows and an enormous picture of himself stuck to the side of it. Harry vaguely recognized it as a photo from the wardrobe screen test – no one had told him he was supposed to be actually _modelling_. It wasn't a bad photo, it was just kind of embarrassing -

Louis had worked with top models for years and years. He's probably laugh when he saw this photo of Harry. Harry could have taken a lot better a photo if he'd _known_ it was for the side of a bus.

Realising he couldn't see Louis anywhere, Harry asked Linda where he was, in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“He's gone ahead, making sure they set up the merch stand right.”

Harry was surprised that Louis had gone before him. It kind of hurt that Louis wasn't here for him on such an important day – but it didn't matter. It's not like Louis meant more to Harry than any other friend, he wasn't supposed to hang around for everything that happened. Harry didn't need anyone holding his hand, he wasn't a child, he was perfectly capable of staying calm before a TV show.

“We've got merchandise?” Harry asked, trying to get his mind off Louis. Linda brushed off the question, shooing him towards the bus. “What merchandise?” he pressed.

“Modern Missionary merchandise, of course.”

“I didn't know we'd have merch. I hadn't seen any.”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

“It's my show, I mean – you know. I want to see it.”

Linda sighed, exasperated. “Louis can show you the stand when we get there, all right?” She pushed Harry onto the bus, pulling out her phone as she followed him in.

It was amazing – a couple of booth couches around a small table, all fixed to the floor of the bus. Quite a big fridge, a decent sized tv-screen, and – Harry smiled – a large gold cross hanging in the front window. Harry could see six bunks covered by curtains towards the back of the bus, and a tiny staircase leading to the second level. He wanted to see what was upstairs, and even explore the bottom level properly, but it was a quick drive to the CityWalk and he _really_ needed to pray.

Harry prayed for the show to go well that day, and – as he saw CityWalk coming up in the distance - desperately apologised for what he'd done last time he was here, with Louis. _Please don't punish me for that, I know it was wrong, please don't make the show go bad because of that, that was my mistake but the show will help a lot of people, don't punish them, just punish me, I'm so sorry..._

When the bus stopped, Linda showed Harry off the bus and sat him in a golf cart. “I've spoken to Louis and he's expecting you at the merch stand,” she said, mispronouncing his name. “He'll get you to your dressing room straight after you see it.”

Before Harry could ask her anything, whoever was driving the cart sped him off, alone. Harry was well and truly overwhelmed.

When the cart screeched to a stop, Harry saw Louis. He was stepping out of the merchandise stand, saying, “ _Salut!_ ”.

Harry had expected a small table with a few t-shirts, maybe a whiteboard behind it – definitely not a decent-sized stand raised above-ground with 360-degree windows and about six or seven girls inside, unpacking boxes and displaying all sorts of things – multiple designs of t-shirts and and even more hoodies, posters, bracelets, pencil cases, headphones - every last item with Harry's face on it.

“Oh my g-” Harry cut himself off, completely dumbfounded. He stepped out of the cart and tripped over his own feet. Louis quickly grabbed him, stopping him from falling.

“The t-shirts,” Harry bleated. “ _Why_?”“You don't like them?” Louis asked.“It's... _me_ , all over them.” Harry gestured.“I designed all the clothes,” Louis said, a little sad. “I thought you'd like them. Don't you?” Harry was feeling too weird - too _hurt_ \- to reassure Louis. “Why didn't you tell me?” “That I was designing them? It's my job,” Louis said, a small smile on his lips.

“That there was merch at all!” Harry said, getting annoyed. “This is ridiculous! The bible says not to worship false idols, this is so stupid, my face all over everything. I'd _never_ approve of this, this show isn't supposed to be about me, it's about _God!_ ”

“'Arry, you're panicking,” Louis said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “ _Breathe_. You're telling me Jeremy didn't show you the designs?”

“No! No one did. Why didn't _you,_ Louis?” Harry said, his throat tightening.

“Oh, _putain_ ,” Louis said. He shot a quick look at the girls in the merch stand, who were still busy at work, and pulled Harry in for a quick, tight hug. He took quite a large step back from Harry once he'd let him go. “I'm so sorry, 'Arry, shit. I really thought you knew. I've got to get you dressed really soon but, er... No one told you about the merch, and that was a mistake, but has anyone talked to you about what else to expect today?”

“Yeah, I got a script. It's kind of like a talk show setup-”

Louis cut him off. “But do you know what you're up against? Not the show itself, but everything surrounding it?”

Harry shook his head. He'd been excited for the show, true, but what _was_ surrounding it? After the bus, and the merch, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Louis unclipped a walkie-talkie from his back pocket and spoke into it. “Linda.” After a small pause, a reply came through, “Louiss? What's up, where's Harry?” Louis ignored her question. “What's the crowd like?”“About one so far. We're expecting about two to three.”

“Oh Jesus _Christ_ , Linda.”

“Say that in earshot of _anyone_ in the crowd and I'll kill you.” Linda's reply came back immediately, the most personality Harry had ever seen her display.

“He has no idea what to expect.”“Harry doesn't need to worry about that,” Linda's voice explained. “No, Linda, he's actually _terrified_ , you should see him.”“I'm _right here,_ ” Harry murmured, but Louis ignored him.“Well calm him down then, Louis!” Linda's voice came back.

“Not in my fucking job description, but fine,” Louis said curtly. “Let hair and makeup know we'll be backstage in twenty minutes.” He clipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt. Harry heard Linda's “ _Thank you,_ ” come out from behind Louis.

“I've got to be quick,” Louis started. “You heard what she said about the crowd they're expecting?”

“Two or three hundred?”

“Thousand,” Louis said.

“You're joking,” Harry said flatly.

“ _Non_. You know they've been advertising the show.”

“Yeah, my family told me. And, um – I saw a few billboards,” Harry admitted, trying to be humble about it.

“It's like, _big,_ ” Louis said grimly. “It's kind of strange. I don't know if it's just a Christian thing, having so many people behind it already, or what, but... I mean, some of the t-shirt designs are already sold out from online sales. _Sold out_ , 'Arry. The show hasn't even started.”

“My mum probably bought them all,” Harry joked, but it was starting to sink in – at least as much as it could.

“I think Jeremy's keeping you in the dark as much as possible. Keeping you innocent and humble, grounded. It's disgusting,” Louis spat out. “You're more than smart enough to deal with the truth.”

“This is all kind of really weird,” Harry admitted.

Louis sighed. “It was always going to be though, right? Your own television show?” He turned to survey the merch stand. “Hold on a second,” he said to Harry and walked a quick circle around the stand.

“ _Parfait, exemplaire,_ ” he said to one of the girls inside. Harry didn't understand the words, but Louis sounded sarcastic. “Take lots of photos, maybe next show I won't have to babysit you through how to display t-shirts again, _oui_?” Louis turned back to Harry. “Come on, time to dress you. I can call the driver back, or we can walk over. Give you a minute to clear your head?”

“Yeah, I'd like to walk,” Harry said gratefully. “I'm not quite sure what's going on with any of this.”

“Eh,” Louis said, leading the way. “I don't know TV very well either.”

“You're _gorgeous_ , 'Arry,” Louis said, a serene smile across his face as he carefully brushed Harry's curls off his forehead. He took a few steps back inside the otherwise-empty dressing room, eyeing Harry top to toe. He pursed his lips then nodded, “Yep, this shirt's the one. Sorry about making you change so many times.”

“It's fine,” Harry said, too pleased with Louis' compliment to care about being made to change outfits seven or eight times – he'd liked the time alone with Louis, anyway, some calm before having to step onstage. His heart was beating a little fast, but he asked, “A kiss for luck?”

Louis immediately shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Too risky.” Harry nodded, eyeing the door – it didn't have a lock.

“I wish I could.”

“You want to kiss me,” Harry said, heart beating even harder.

“ _Focus_ , 'Arry. You're going on in a moment,” Louis said quietly, but he was stepping closer to Harry.

“You want me,” Harry whispered.“Oui,” Louis whispered back. “But you're about to be filmed.”

“Would you like that?” Harry guessed. “Would you like to watch me go out on stage in front of thousands of people, with all these cameras on me, and you'd be the only one who knew you'd just made out with me?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis said, his voice suddenly high and weak. Harry was pushed back against the table in the dressing room as Louis moved into him, one hand at the back of his curls and the other tightly gripping his hip. Louis' mouth met Harry's, hot and wet, kissing him deeply. “You're mine,” Louis was almost growling against Harry's lips, “Wish everyone could fucking see it, wish all the idiots who bought t-shirts with your picture on them knew that you're already _mine_.”

Harry didn't care that Louis was swearing, he didn't even really care to stop and think about what Louis meant by _'mine'_ \- Harry was instantly getting a boner. He pried Louis' hand off his hip, nudging it in more to the middle.

“'Arry, no, sorry, we can't,” Louis rushed, reclaiming his hand and stepping back. “You know we can't.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry agreed.

“Maybe later?” Louis said softly, kissing him again but much more gently.

“Maybe.” Harry nodded. He'd wanted to kiss Louis, that was true, but he'd also just wanted to put the show off for a bit longer – the closer it came to stepping out on stage, the less prepared he felt.

It went well, though. It went really, really well! Harry was surprised by how much he really enjoyed being on stage – he'd performed before, but never to this large an audience. They all

laughed along with him, held up their phones to take photos of him, and they all went quiet and prayed with him. Harry got a small break after introducing an up-and-coming Christian band to take the stage for a few songs. Louis was sidestage, chatting to one of the makeup girls on a couch. Harry flopped down besides him.

“You're doing well, dude,” the girl said brightly.

Harry just leant his head back towards Louis, closing his eyes for a minute to listen to the band. He felt fingers on his head and he didn't have to open his eyes to know it was Louis, stroking through his curls in the way he always did after – after they – after -

“Sorry, I've got to go,” Harry said, getting up.

How could he have said all those things to the crowd, things about being a good Christian, things about living for God despite the pressure a teenager faces in the world today, things about being a soldier for Jesus, how could he say all those things when a man – a _man_ he'd kissed was standing only a few feet to the side?

It wasn't Louis' fault. Harry just couldn't be around him, not here. He'd go goof around with the band on stage while they played their last song, the audience would love that.

\-----

“Take a seat, Louiss.” “Lou- _ie_.”

“Hmm,” Jeremy hummed, not paying attention. He passed an iPad over to Louis. On the screen were a few grainy shots of Harry and Louis on the couch sidestage, a dopey smile on Harry's face as Louis' fingertips ran through his curls.

Louis' mind ran at a mile a minute – who took the photos, what did they look like to Jeremy, why was Jeremy showing them to Louis, _what did he know?_ Whoever had taken them had been deliberately selective, why? If they'd zoomed out only a tiny bit more they'd have seen there was someone else sitting right there with them.

“You're not exactly tech-savvy, are you?” Jeremy asked. Louis tried to asses Jeremy's facial expression, the tone of his voice. Louis didn't want to speak yet, lest he gave away more than he needed to. “An intern's been running your Twitter for a week,” Jeremy continued. “You haven't said anything about it, so I'm assuming you didn't notice.”

“I – no, I didn't,” Louis said, taken aback. “How'd she even get the password?”

“You work for CNTV now, and we wanted to get your account verified,” Jeremy explained without actually answering the question.

“That's not exactly contractual, is it? Taking over my account?”

“It's not exactly _not,_ ” Jeremy levelled. “Anyway, see those photos of you and Harry? That's not even the start of it. Since the paparazzi photos from New York, the fans have loved you. You've been getting a _lot_ of tweets.”

“They don't know me,” Louis pointed out. “They don't even know the _show_ yet.”

“Well, you'd already made quite a name for yourself. Plus we've got _very_ good advertising for this show," Jeremy said proudly. "It seems that - with this fan attention - you're going to have to tie into the image we're crafting. We can't have you on the actual show, but we can help build – well, _change -_ your name in the public eye. I was thinking, if you're free tonight-”

“I'm not,” Louis interrupted, not apologetic – he was already incredibly irritated by Jeremy basically using Harry as a pawn rather than a member of the team. Louis wasn't really keen to be part of these games too. “A friend lives in this building, he's having a party.”

Jeremy paused, reassessing. “Celebrity?”“ _Oui,_ ” Louis admitted reluctantly. “Very well-known model, and his fiancée's in a girl group.” “Girl group.” Jeremy nodded. “That's good.”“Good that he's straight?” Louis asked pointedly.

“Exactly,” Jeremy said curtly, pulling no punches. “On that thought, to be frank with you it's not great for the public Modern Missionary image to have an flamboyantly homosexual man on the team.”

“I'm not _flamboyant_ ,” Louis said sternly.“It just wouldn't hurt if you could get photographed with some _women_ , too. People don't need to _know_ you're gay.” Jeremy's words had an obvious weight.

“That's not at all negotiable, is it? The photographs?” Louis asked.

“No, you're right, it's not. I'm glad we're on the same page. Listen, Louiss. The fans love Harry, the fans love you. You two _together_ means more publicity, more hype. That means the show makes more money, and we all go home happier. It's just not going to look good if Harry's being mentored by a gay man.”

 _Mentored_. Right. Well, Louis was certainly mentoring Harry in _something_.“I know a girl who's happy to help make this simple. She's free to make appearances for the

duration of the tour,” Jeremy said delicately. “Appearances. With _me,_ like-”

“She's an actress. She won't bother you at all – she doesn't even have to stay at this party all night, just a few photographs – perhaps with your _celebrity friends_ \- and she'll leave. You'll probably enjoy her company, you know!” Jeremy added brightly.

A fucking _beard?_ __“You know there's _nothing_ in my contract that you can use to make me do this,” Louis pointed out, leaning back in his chair.“Character morality clause,” Jeremy suggested, not exactly strongly.

“That's a stretch.”“You like this job, don't you? It's a good opportunity for you, you said in your interview you were looking at this job _because_ you wanted to move to America, right?” “Right.”

“Harry's taken a shining to you. It's better for us if he gets seen with the Modern Missionary team – we don't want the media saying he's on a different girl in every state, you see.”

Louis laughed. Harry was a good-looking kid, but it'd be a stretch to paint him as a womaniser.

Jeremy ignored the laugh and continued. “Image is everything. It's good for Harry's image and it's good for the show's image if we're all seen as a family. Things are already very busy and they're only going to get more so. Frankly, I don't have time to find a replacement for you, but even if I had all the time in the world I wouldn't want to. You're good at your job, with the clothes. I want everyone on our team to be happy, that includes you.”

That didn't seem like a fake statement. Jeremy was very America, very _Hollywood_ , very conservative Christian, but he was also very successful in his industry, and ran an efficient, albeit not-nice, team.

The thing was - someone had been snapping photos not just of Harry, but of _Harry and Louis_ that day. They'd been popular enough online that they'd caught Jeremy's attention. Louis really didn't need that attention on him, on him _with Harry_ , so a beard might make things very, very safe.

“You'll have to pay me overtime,” Louis negotiated.“Of course.”“Who will know about this... arrangement?”“Me, you, Linda and the girl herself – her name's Eleanor. That's all.” “This isn't under-the-table, I want a new contract.”

“Absolutely, I'll get Linda to arrange it straight away. Won't take more than two or three days.”

“Suppose tonight's appearance is on me, then.” Louis sighed, rising from the chair. “Listen, plenty of people know that I'm gay. Everyone in fashion. I'm _not_ going to lie about it, I don't believe in that.”

“Fine,” Jeremy said curly. “You won't say _anything_ about the girl then. No confirmation, no denying. To anyone.”

“Fine. Au revoir.”

\-----

Harry had just been wondering if he'd have time for a nap before Modern Missionary came on TV, when he heard a knock on the hotel room's door. He looked through the peephole; it was Louis. Harry opened the door, smiling.

Louis wasn't smiling. He simply passed a clothes-bag over to Harry. “Put this on.”“What's this for?” Harry asked, unzipping it to reveal a shirt and a pair of tan-colored pants.

“Tonight. We're going to a small party. You can just wear the shirt if you want, jeans are fine too.”

“What party?” Harry paused. He'd been looking forward to an early night after Modern Missionary aired. Or even, well, a night with Louis...

“Zayn's. You met him this morning in the lobby.”“My show's on soon, though,” Harry argued. Hadn't Louis thought of that?

“We can watch it later, I'll get Linda to email a copy, yes? You've got to come tonight 'Arry, it's for publicity.”

“No one told me,” Harry said, pulling the shirt out of the bag. Much quieter, he added “No one eff-ing tells me anything.”

“Jeremy only just decided,” Louis said apologetically. “Look, a girl's coming with us. Jeremy wants me to be photographed, you too, which is why we're going to Zayn's. He just wants me to be seen with a date, as well as you.”

“You're bringing a date,” Harry said flatly.

“I haven't even met her yet, 'Arry.” Louis forced a smile, but Harry wasn't amused. His stomach had dropped. He shouldn't care – in fact, he should be happy if Louis was seeing a girl now, because Harry wasn't quite sure where he sat on the whole _gay_ thing, if it was okay to have a gay friend, so it made it a lot easier if Louis was going to be with a girl...

“What about what you said before the show, though?” Harry said, facing away as he buttoned up the shirt so Louis couldn't see his ears turning pink. “You were saying _I'm_ yours.”

“Oh.” Louis sighed, but he didn't confirm it. All he said was, “She's just an actress. It really doesn't mean anything. Look, if it's going to upset you, I can talk to Jeremy.”

“I'm not upset!” Harry said, the pink spreading to his cheeks and betraying what he was saying. “I don't give a stuff if you're hanging out with a girl, I'm not gay, I'll probably meet a girl tonight too.”

“Okay, _bien_ , fine,” Louis said, stepping back from Harry.

Harry realised he might have hurt him a bit, but he didn't care, because; “You know, Louis, a real friend would have wanted to stay _in_ tonight, to see the first episode of my show. A real friend would have wanted to watch it with me. Not make me go to a stupid party.”

“I'm sorry. _C'est compliqué_.” Louis sighed softly. “It's for the best, let me explain.”

“Honestly, I don't really care what the explanation is,” Harry said, striding to the door. “A real friend wouldn't have designed twenty-five t-shirts with my face on them and not even _tell_ me about them. A real friend would have invited me to breakfast with his stupid famous friend this morning instead of just ditching me.”

“'Arry, _I'm sorry_ , it's complicated _-_ ”

Harry continued, raising his voice over Louis', “A real friend would want to celebrate my TV show airing tonight. You haven't even said congratulations. I don't care, okay, just take me to Zayn's. Let's get this over with.” He left, leaving Louis to lock up the room.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“It's a pleasure to meet you Eleanor, but what the fuck are you wearing?” Louis said, scrunching up his nose. The brunette girl was pretty enough, if a little plain, but she was in a garish pink satin dress.

“I look good,” she said self-assuredly. “I'm not changing.”

“Fine,” Louis said. He got his way so often that sometimes it was refreshing to be stood up to... sometimes. “No one's going to believe I'd actually date a girl who wears that type of thing, though.”

“I'm just hoping no one believes I'd actually date a gay man,” Eleanor countered quietly.

Louis laughed. “I hadn't thought about that, what this is going to look like for _you._ Well, we'll see what people think. This plot has more holes than Swiss cheese.”

“Jeremy Wash should just stick to producing,” the girl muttered – okay, Louis liked her. “But, I've been in LA for eighteen months now and I haven't so much booked a commercial. They're paying me enough to do this that I can stop waiting tables.”

  

“And if your name gets out there, maybe you _will_ get cast in something.” Louis nodded, understanding.

“I'm _sure_ your big break will come,” Harry's sarcasm came from behind them. Louis and Eleanor both jumped a little – Harry had lagged behind Louis, sulking, and they hadn't noticed him arriving at the elevator bank. “We can’t all be starring in our own primetime show,” Harry continued. “Good luck with the commercials, though.”

“Thanks,” Eleanor said warmly, ignoring Harry's snide tone. Louis couldn't ignore it, though.

“Don't be a dick, Harry,” Louis said, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for Zayn's floor. “She's just doing her job here, okay?”

“Right. Sorry, Eleanor,” Harry said, following him in. “ _You're_ the dick,” he muttered to Louis. “Is it just me, or is this a little awkward?” Eleanor asked as the elevator rose.

Harry, not at all subtle, let panic cross his face as he stammered, “ _No_ , why would it be awkward, we're nothing – I mean, it's nothing.”

“Harry's just disappointed that he doesn't get to watch his show right when it airs,” Louis said, willing Eleanor to believe that's all it was. “Listen, you two. This could be a lot worse. I know Jeremy's making you both come tonight, but we all get paid for this. I was already planning on going to this party anyway. Zayn's a cool guy, all of Little Mix are going to be there-”

Louis was cut off by Eleanor's squeal. “Oh my god, I love Little Mix.”“Don't use god's name like that,” Harry said. _It's going to be a long night,_ Louis groaned internally as he stepped out of the elevator.

Louis had partied with Zayn before, but he'd never been to one of _Zayn's parties._ There was a lot of weed going around, and a lot of really good-looking people. A couple of guys in the far side of the entrance hall were spraypainting a statue that Louis couldn't quite make out the shape of.

Eleanor produced a camera from her handbag, and said, “Harry, do you mind?” as she passed the camera over. She posed for a couple shots with Louis – thankfully Harry obliged to be the photographer. “Great, hold on.” She stopped Harry.

Louis watched in amazement as she rubbed at her eyes, lightly smudging her makeup. She pulled on a cardigan, messed up her hair a bit, then turned to Louis and undid the top button of his shirt. She swung Harry around to photograph them from a different angle, then took the camera off him, showing Louis as she scrolled between the few photos. “Good?”

“Oui. Looks like we were here all night.” Louis laughed, impressed. She quite knew what she was doing.

“I've got to get a few of you two with Zayn. Call me when you find him, yeah? I'm getting a drink.” Eleanor left.

“I'm just going to find the bathroom,” Harry said.

Louis suddenly remembered Harry at the nightclub in New York, crying – maybe he didn't really like parties either. “Want me to come with you?”

“I'm not a baby,” Harry snapped. “Go with your new girlfriend to get a drink, you can find me when it's happy-snap time.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Louis protested, but Harry left too, leaving Louis alone.

The strangest combination of music was playing through the sound system – an extremely explicit rap song (which Louis hoped Harry couldn’t hear from the bathroom) had faded into _Voodoo Chile_ before Louis found Zayn in the kitchen. Zayn greeted him with a nod, offering Louis a half- smoked joint without speaking. Louis took an appreciative drag - when in Rome, right? - and raised his eyes at the next song that came on – some very loud girls with great voices against a fast beat.

“Not bad, eh?” Zayn smiled.Louis nodded in agreement, although he wasn't sure if Zayn meant the weed or the song.

Zayn reached out to a girl standing slightly away from them, pulling her into the conversation. “This is Perrie. This is her group’s new single. Pez, this is Louis.” And then for some reason he emphasised, “ _Louis_ Louis _._ ”

“Ooh, hey there you!” Perrie said, in a jarring Geordie accent.

“You must be the girl Zee's been raving about,” Louis said, kissing her cheeks. “I really like the song.”

“Thanks! The other girls from the group are here too, if you'd like to meet them?” she asked.

“Sure – actually, sorry to be annoying, but Zayn might have told you I'm in LA with a TV show. I was kind of hoping the kid I'm working with could get a photo with your group?” Louis didn't think Jeremy would appreciate a pink-eyed Zayn being photographed with Harry through a cloud of smoke, but if he could get Harry and the Little Mix girls together that was probably even better publicity.

“No problem, love.” Perrie smiled. “Follow me.”

“You're just as fit as Zayn described,” Perrie said over the music, scanning the crowd. “Er – _merci_.”“He said you're gay.”“Yes.”

“You can have him,” she went on, dead casual. “If I'm there too.”Louis coughed in surprise. Perrie just smiled sweetly and nodded, like, _I mean it_. “Thanks,” Louis said. “I'll definitely think about it.”

Someone else coughed then, quite loudly. Louis turned to see Harry.“I can't believe you,” Harry said softly, looking at Louis' hand.“I – shit, take this,” Louis said, passing the roach over to Perrie.Harry stared, eyes flicking from the smoking joint, to Louis, to Perrie, back to Louis. “I only had a little,” Louis hastily added. “I'm sorry, listen, I’ll-”

Perrie giggled beside him, looking at Louis like he was ridiculous. It _was_ ridiculous, a grown man acting like he'd just been caught doing something wrong - by a child, nonetheless. It was embarrassing. Louis took the joint back out of Perrie's fingers, taking a defiant drag before offering it to Harry.

“Eff off,” Harry said in shock. He turned to leave and Louis panicked, grabbing his arm.

“Wait, how long were you standing there? Did you hear-” Louis said, trying to keep his voice low enough that Perrie wouldn't catch it.

“Yeah, I heard,” Harry spat out loudly, snatching his arm back. “I'll be praying for you both.”

“Sorry,” Louis apologised to Perrie, still embarrassed. “Harry, please - this is _Perrie_. I'm going to call Eleanor, we'll get a quick photo of you and Perrie's band, all right?”

“Fine,” Harry huffed.

“Zayn mentioned some kid,” Perrie said into Louis' ear, not quite quietly enough. “You'll definitely have a better night if you end it with _us_.” She winked as she steered Louis and Harry over to meet her bandmates. Eleanor found them quickly, and arranged the four girls to sit with Louis and Harry casually, as if they were deep in conversation. As soon as Eleanor had snapped a few photos, Harry marched off.

“Louis, is it okay if I...” Eleanor ventured.

“Did you want a photo too, dear?” Perrie asked, patting the spot beside her on the couch. “Come on!”

Eleanor posed, a joyful smile on her face, then took the camera back of Louis. “That's me done for the night, then.”

“Big plans?” Louis asked.

“It’s pajamas and TV for me.” She added quietly, “Can't risk being seen anywhere else. I’m ‘here with you’ all night.”

“Ooh, stay with us, love!” Perrie stood up, “You’ve gotta see the view from the balcony, c’mon girls!”

Eleanor mouthed a starstruck _thank you_ to Louis as the girl group took her away.

Alone again, Louis went to find Zayn, more than a little interested to ask him what was going on with Perrie’s offer. Louis found him in the kitchen – he'd either returned or never left the room in the first place – chatting, to Louis' chagrin, with Harry. Harry had a plastic cup of beer in his hand, Zayn's eyes on it as Harry waved it around haphazardly, apparently a bit tipsy.

“You're not gay like Louis, then?” Harry was asking.

Zayn shook his head.

“But you were kidding about being Muslim?” Harry questioned, still oblivious to Louis' entrance. Zayn shook his head again. “You don't _look_ like one, shouldn't you wear a turban?”

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis warned from the doorway.Harry turned to see Louis. “It's not a bad thing!” he defended himself. “If he doesn't look like a terrorist! I mean, aren't Muslims all-”

“ _Ta gueule_.” Louis interrupted, utterly horrified, stepping into the kitchen. “You're being really rude to our host. Can't you just Google this stuff? You seem to be pretty good at finding things on the internet.” He tapped a finger on his small Chanel tattoo, reminding Harry about a certain video that the kid had stumbled across.

Harry shoved Louis' hand away. “Not my problem, then! Not my problem if I'm the only one here going to heaven!”

Louis didn't believe in heaven or hell, so that retort shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. “Harry – _Jesus_ – what's up with you?” Louis said, taking the beer out of Harry's hand.

“I'm fine! You just keep smoking pot with your new friends, Lou- _is_!” Harry snapped, lips tight as he deliberately pronounced the S.

“Hey, Tommo,” Zayn warned as Louis straightened his back, eyes wide in fury. “What's your problem? Give me back my drink, Lou-is,” Harry pushed.

In a flash Zayn was stood between them, facing Louis – a good thing, because Louis was about to toss the beer right into Harry's face.

“Come on, let's go sit in the lounge,” Zayn urged Louis quietly. They left Harry in the kitchen.

Zayn sat with Louis on a large leather corner couch. Perrie was sitting on the back of it, long legs right by Zayn's arm.

“You good, mate?” Zayn checked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. What a fucking brat,” Louis said, keeping his shaking hands flat on his thighs as he took a few deep breaths.

“I did ask if you wanted to bring a kid to a party,” Zayn said. “Hate to say I told you so.” “You do not hate it.” Louis let himself laugh.

Louis could see Harry walking across the lounge room, returning to the couch where they'd taken the photos. Harry was flanked either side by some unfamiliar girls. He was laughing and joking with them, playfully arm-wrestling and tickling them.

The sight stabbed into Louis’ eyes and twisted, sending a twitch down his arm that somehow caused him to place a firm hand on Zayn's thigh.

Zayn looked at Louis for only a split second before his eyes went to Harry across the room. He then leant up to his other side and said something to Perrie before moving his mouth to Louis' ear and hotly whispering, “I know what you're doing.” It wasn't a scolding, though; Zayn moved his hips forward in his seat, nudging himself into Louis' hand.

Louis cocked his head slightly towards Zayn, keeping his eyes fixed on Harry. Harry looked over at Louis, and he didn't look away.

“It's not nice to tease little boys, you know,” Zayn spoke softly, nipping Louis on the earlobe. “But if you must... Let's go ahead and get him really jealous.”

It was all a game, but Zayn's deep voice and Bradford accent and sharp teeth were hitting Louis deeper than just his ear. His eyelids fluttered for a moment – just a moment – and when he focused his eyes again, Harry had his arm around the girl to his left. He saw Louis looking, too, and actually stretched his other fucking arm over the girl on the other side.

Louis shifted his thigh so it was pressed up against Zayn's.

Harry mimicked the motion, spreading both his legs so each one was against the girl on either side. Whoever the girls were, they responded instantly - only placing a hand on Harry’s thigh, the other crossing one leg over the other so it was almost on top of Harry’s leg.

Louis refused to indulge Harry for a minute more. He couldn’t watch Harry, especially not with girls. Not with girls around Harry’s age that he was allowed to touch in public. Instead Louis turned into Zayn, his hand still high up on Zayn’s thigh, and talked to him and Perrie for the next half hour.

Every so often, Zayn glanced over Louis' shoulder. Louis assumed Harry was still sitting there. He wasn't going to look. _He wasn't going to look_.

Louis heard a familiar guitar strumming out of the sound system. “Come on, Zee, let's dance.”

“Finish my drink for me, then,” Zayn offered, bringing his glass up and nodding as he fed the straw between Louis' lips. Zayn's eyes were still looking behind Louis; Harry _must_ still be there. Louis obediently sucked. Zayn was turning out to be a _very_ helpful friend.

Hearing the straw rattle once the glass was emptied, Louis pulled Zayn out to the middle of the room, both of them starting to move to the music. Zayn was _really_ fucking fit. Louis pulled him in by the hips, singing along with the music.

“Stone Roses, yeah?” Zayn smiled. “You used to wear their t-shirts all the time.” “I do not wear band tshirts.” Louis lightly punched Zayn in the shoulder.

“Sure, and I don’t wear Proenza Schouler.” Zayn laughed, but his smile fell slightly as he nodded towards something past Louis. “Five o'clock.”

Louis danced himself around, following Zayn's gaze, and spotted Harry with his gaggle of girls. They'd all risen to dance. Louis stayed facing that way, moving his ass against Zayn to the beat of the song, eyes on Harry – daring him.

Harry looked at the girls around him, sort of shook his head to himself, and continued to dance in a relatively chaste fashion.

Perrie appeared in front of Louis, sandwiching him in between her and Zayn. She danced in front of Louis, holding one of his hands and one of Zayn's.

“What _is_ this song, anyway? It’s so lame!” Harry's voice carried across the room. It was so obvious – so _irritating -_ he wanted Louis to hear him.

“I know, right? When was it recorded, the 1900's!?” a girl laughed by Harry's side.

Harry went over to the player and stopped the music mid-song. “I'm putting something actually good on.” Harry said.

Whatever he chose was unfamiliar, but Louis wasn't going to play into it. He just carried on dancing in between Zayn and Perrie. Before the first chorus started, Perrie leant over Louis' shoulder, kissing Zayn behind him.

Without breaking the kiss, Zayn grabbed Louis' hand and lead it to the back of Perrie's head. Louis could feel her head lightly bobbing under his hand, hear the sound of the kiss right next to his ears, his hips pressed tightly in between the two of them. Perrie didn't seem care that Louis was half-hard against her.

“Ugh, look, that's _disgusting_ ,” Harry said to the girls he was with, distaste clear on his face. “You don't like kissing?” one of the girls with him joked. “What are you, gay?”Harry’s face instantly fell.

Louis felt like the whole world had stopped for a second. Zayn and Perrie were still moving, sandwiching Louis in place, but every element of his attention was on Harry. Louis felt nerves swirl in his stomach, terrified of what was about to happen.

He didn't expect this, though; Harry boldly asking, “Is _this_ gay?” and then kissing the girl right on the mouth. They didn't stop. The girl snaked her hands around Harry's waist. Louis could see her tongue in between Harry's lips, which had already gotten smeared with her cheap red lipstick -

“Zee, Perrie, I'm sorry,” Louis said abruptly, awkwardly stepping out from between them. “I've got to get some air. I might call you a bit later?”

“Sure,” Zayn said, too stoned to mind, closing the gap that Louis had left between him and Perrie. “'Night, love. Do call us,” Perrie said as she resumed kissing Zayn.

There was plenty of room by Harry and the girl but Louis shoved past them, breaking them apart as he strode to the door.

It wasn't until Louis got to the quiet of the elevator bank in the hallway that he realised Harry had followed him. A man Louis hadn't met was waiting for the elevator too, so neither Harry or Louis broke the silence.

\-----

Louis, Harry, and the stranger stood in the elevator, spread out each in a corner. The man got out on the floor below Zayn's and cheerily said, “Night!” over his shoulder. The doors hadn't fully shut before Louis crossed the space between him and Harry.

“You've got lipstick all around your mouth. Stupid girl's made a mess of you,” he slurred darkly.

No sooner had Harry wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his shirt, Louis was roughly pulling it off him, waving the top in his face. “ _Mais qu'est-ce que t'es con_ , do you know how hard it is to get lipstick out of fabric?”

The elevator felt cold now that Harry was half bare, and his heart was racing as he shook his head. He didn't think Louis wouldn't ever hurt him, but he seemed so angry.

The elevator opened on their floor and Harry made a beeline for his own room, but Louis went " _Tsk_ ", and shot Harry such a stern look that Harry quickly realised he'd better follow Louis back into his room instead.

Louis shut the hotel door, locking it. “What the hell were you doing? Kissing that girl, hmm? Right in front of me? The whole reason Jeremy wants you to be photographed with me is so you look _wholesome_ , so you look like you're spending your time with people who work on the show. And what do you do? You go kissing a girl you'd only just met? _What if someone got a photo, 'Arry?_ ”

Harry wondered if that's really why Louis was angry, or if it had more to do with his low growl only hours earlier; " _Mine._ "

“I'm not one of your mates from school!” Louis continued, accent thick with anger, labouring over the vowels in a way he normally didn't. “I know it’s fun, 'ooking up at parties! But I can't be the one to pat you on the back about it. It's part of my _job_ now, being part of your public image, _you can't kiss girls right in front of me!_ ”

Louis crossed the room, frantically fumbled through his suitcase for a moment and pulled out a large white plastic jar. He walked back to Harry, shoving the jar and stained shirt into Harry's bare chest. Harry held out the jar to read, but the label was all in French.

“Bathroom, now,” Louis ordered, fire in his eyes.

“What's... why?” Harry questioned, confused.

Completely unexpectedly, Louis softened. The angry lines left his face as he ran his fingers through Harry's curls, hand resting lax at the back of his scalp. Harry could smell the liquor on Louis' lips, he hated the smell and hated how his body, for some absurd reason, seemed to take the scent as a trigger to want to kiss Louis, taste the drink on his tongue. The girl he’d kissed tasted awful, like cigarettes and something floury that must have been the lipstick. Harry missed Louis’ lips, his mouth that tasted sweet and subtle, his rough stubble that grazed Harry’s upper lip. He wanted Louis to be the last person he’d kissed, not a random girl.

“You got makeup on your top, and I'd like to teach you how to get it out,” Louis explained, voice just as soft as his touch. “But if you want to go back to your own room that's fine. I honestly don't mind.”

Harry was tired. It had been a big day and he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He wanted to go to his room and finally watch the first episode of his TV show. He didn't care for washing laundry, really. His mother still did it for him at home.

But Harry had been watching Louis hang out with Eleanor, Zayn and Perrie all night. Finally Louis' attention was on Harry, where it should be. Harry wasn't going to leave, not when he had Louis all to himself.

Harry had taken it a bit far, kissing that girl tonight. It’s just... she’d called him _gay_ , and after feeling absolutely nothing when he had a girl hanging off either side of him, that hurt. He was sick of feeling nothing from girls, so he kissed her, trying to make something happen. Anything. He didn’t even like her. Oh, gosh, he was a terrible person – he didn't even know her _name_. Louis had been the only person he'd kissed and that wasn't great (if nothing else, Louis was a _guy_ ,) but at least they were good friends. Harry didn't know this girl at all.

He was sorry, and he needed Louis to know how sorry he was, because Louis might still forgive him. Harry didn't know if God would.

Harry said, “I'll learn,” as he walked to the bathroom.

“Fill the sink up with lukewarm water,” Louis instructed, retrieving a plug from the bathroom drawer. Harry stepped in front of the sink and twisted the taps for a minute, trying to get the right balance of hot and cold from the unfamiliar faucet. Reaching out from behind Harry, Louis held his wrist under the stream of water for a second. “Perfect.” He put the plug in.

Harry felt Louis' hands land on his back, holding him in place.

“ _Jesus_ , I can’t...” Louis breathed out as he ran his hands over Harry’s bare skin. “Could I kiss you, ‘Arry?”

Harry would never admit it, but he'd hoped that was where this night was heading. He nodded.

Louis didn't move. Maybe he hadn't seen, so after a beat Harry cleared his throat, and said, “Please kiss me.”

Louis’ mouth met Harry's neck lightly, hands still firm on his lower back, lips trailing a line from

Harry's shoulder to his ear. Harry's head fell back but Louis then stopped immediately, saying, “Concentrate, don't let the sink overflow.”

“Right, okay,” Harry said, feeling a little dizzy. He turned the tap off.

“Put your top in, get it wet,” Louis said, waiting a while before he spoke again, fingers lightly stroking Harry's hips. “Good. Now drain the water. Don't wring the top out though, keep it wet.”

Harry pulled the top out, sopping and heavy, and removed the plug with his other hand. He dropped the top into the empty sink with a wet smack. “You like it wet, don't you?” Harry said, pulse pounding through his body. He'd never teased anyone in that way before, but he needed Louis to need him, needed Louis’ lips on his _mouth_.

“Cheeky,” Louis dismissed gently. “Find the stain.”Harry started turning the top over, and Louis started kissing the other side of his neck. It was so hard to concentrate – it seemed to take _ages_ , but finally Harry found the red smudge.

“Open the jar,” Louis said, lips not far off Harry's skin. Harry's wet hands slipped over the lid. Louis reached his arms around Harry, opening the jar for him. Instead of letting his arms drop down, he wrapped them around Harry's torso, pulling himself in close behind Harry's back. Harry couldn't quite tell but he thought he could feel Louis at least half-hard against his ass.

 _Is he getting off on this?_ Harry wondered, trying to imagine if laundry could really be that sexy. Or maybe it was more like how Louis had told him to pray that morning, that Louis liked it when Harry did what Louis told him to do.

Louis' teeth nipped at his neck, sending a jolt through Harry’s belly and a twitch through his cock that he couldn’t ignore. “Lou,” Harry whimpered, trying to turn around.

“We'll clean the top first, okay,” Louis suggested, his strong arm keeping Harry facing ahead. Harry nodded.

“Get a little bit of the powder out, not too much, and sprinkle it over the stain.” Harry moved decisively, trying to gauge Louis' reaction to his obedience. “Good boy.” Louis said softly behind Harry's ear. He definitely liked Harry following orders.

“Now what?” Harry urged.“Pick up the fabric either side and rub it together.”Harry did just that, watching the white powder turn into pink foam as it picked up the lipstick.

“Keep going,” Louis said softly, running a hand up Harry's back and into Harry's curls, gripping Harry's hair tighter in his fingers until he was almost pulling it. Almost. “What did you call me tonight, hm?”

“What?” Harry asked, momentarily confused by the change of subject.Louis held Harry's hair just a tiny bit tighter, making the skin at the back of his head prickle. “You _know_ when.” Ah.

“I called you Lou-is. With an S,” Harry whispered, still rubbing the fabric.

“What's my name?”

“Louis,” Harry pronounced it correctly this this time, still whispering.

“ _Quoi_? Speak _up_.” On the last word, he _definitely_ pulled Harry's hair.

“Louis,” Harry said more clearly, trying to pronounce it a bit French, like Louis did when he introduced himself.

Louis released Harry's curls, putting his hand right on the front of Harry's jeans. “Say my name,” Louis instructed.

Harry took a few deep breaths, attempting to steady himself, but when he repeated, “Louis,” his voice wavered. He was already completely hard under Louis’ hand.

“Good boy,” Louis murmured, slowly and firmly rubbing his hand up and down. Harry gasped, “ _Louis!_ ” rutting his hips so hard into Louis' hand that he slammed it against the sink.

“Ow, _merde!_ ” Louis laughed, stepping back and holding his hands together, massaging the knuckles that had hit the marble. “Careful, clumsy.”

Harry realised this was his out – he had to leave now, before he let Louis touch him again. Harry really liked the way Louis was touching him, down there, and that meant something was seriously wrong with Harry. The girls at the party were nice, why didn't he have one of them back in his own hotel room, why was he here in Louis' room? Why was he here in Louis' room with a bitten- red neck and an erection? It was so, so wrong.

“I've got to go.” Harry spoke fast, leaving his still-soapy top in the sink. “Can I borrow a top?” he asked, gesturing at his still-bare chest.

Louis, taken aback, stared at Harry for a moment. He shrugged uncomfortably, took his own top right off and passed it over to Harry. Harry pulled it on, feeling it still warm from Louis' skin.

“Bye,” Harry said flatly, leaving the bathroom and unlocking the hotel room's main door. He didn't look back at Louis, because if he did, he’d probably stay.

Harry ran down the hallway, slamming his hotel room door behind him. He dropped to his knees, on the carpet right in front of the door. He clasped his hands and prayed, hard. Why him? Why did something have to be wrong with him?

Harry felt his eyes beginning to prickle with tears, but he was interrupted by his phone buzzing and they stayed dry. _Link to the first episode in your email. DO NOT SEND IT TO ANYONE ELSE. :) Linda._

Harry wasn’t in the mood to watch Modern Missionary.What he was in the mood for was, still, Louis. The shirt Harry had on smelled like Louis and all

What he was in the mood for was, still, Louis. The shirt Harry had on smelled like Louis and all

he could think about was how close he felt to Louis - why didn’t he feel that close to God anymore? Louis' heart had been beating inside this top just minutes ago and now Harry's was there instead.

Harry stood up, swayed for a minute, whispered, “ _Frick,_ ” and marched back to Louis' room. Louis hadn't locked the door after Harry left. Harry slipped in, closing it quietly behind him. He could hear the shower running.

There was a laptop sitting on the bed. Harry knew he shouldn’t snoop, but he tapped one of the keys and the screen came to life. With a jolt, he recognised himself.

Linda must have emailed Louis too, because he was watching Modern Missionary. The episode was paused on Harry, framed from the torso up, dancing with the band on stage. Harry’s heart sunk, thinking of how he’d had a go at Louis for not being a real friend - Louis did care, even about the show, of course he cared.

Harry was going to wait for Louis to finish his shower, let him come out and then they could talk, but he heard something just over the running water.

Louis was moaning in there. Gasping out French that Harry couldn't understand.

Harry panicked, thinking about the time he heard another man's voice on Louis' end of the phone line, or the way Zayn and his girlfriend had _looked_ at Louis all night, dancing up close to him. Harry’s stomach burned. Louis didn’t care about Harry at all, not if he was already with someone else - in the shower, nonetheless, only twenty-four hours after _they’d_ showered together.

The door to the bathroom was ajar and Harry took a wide step straight into the room, mouth open to yell -

Louis was alone.

Harry closed his mouth, trying to think of what to say now, but Louis hadn't noticed him - because Louis' eyes were shut, his head leant back slightly to let the water fall on his hair. He was balanced up on his tiptoes, one hand hidden behind his back – Harry didn’t dare dwell what Louis' fingers were doing out of sight, because he _knew_ what that felt like, _Harry’s_ fingers had been in there too. Harry focused on Louis’ other hand, the one stroking his cock.

Harry knew he shouldn't be watching, he should go – he should have _stayed_ gone the first time, why had he been so stupid as to come back?

“Oh, 'Arry.” Louis sighed, eyes still shut. Harry didn't dare believe it, but after some words Harry didn’t understand, Louis repeated himself, “' _Arry_.” But Louis hadn't seen him. He was just... thinking about him.

 _Louis was thinking about Harry while he touched himself in the shower._ Harry's feet felt glued to the spot.

Louis dropped his own feet flat, moaning louder as he rocked back onto the hand behind his back, more French softly spilling out of his wet lips.

Harry felt himself getting hard again, almost instantly. He cautiously slid a hand inside his own pants, fingers sliding smoothly along still-bare skin. Harry curled his fingers around his own cock, his mind not far from how Louis had held him there just that morning. He began to stroke himself in time with Louis’ own hand’s motion. As Harry’s breathing got faster, he held it in more, trying to stay silent.

Louis shifted his arm behind himself, wincing slightly as he breathed through it. Soon a look of bliss crossed his face as he let out a loud moan, his other hand tugging his beautiful -

Not beautiful, beautiful nothing. Harry didn’t think dicks were beautiful, he _wasn’t gay_.

Harry was close, _really_ close. Louis didn't seem to be there yet and for just a split-second Harry was embarrassed, that he didn't last as long as Louis did, not even half as long – but that gave way to panic when Harry realised he didn't have anything to come _into_ besides his own hand, there wasn't a tissue box or anything. He couldn't stop stroking himself though, it felt so good and Louis looked _so good_ , water cascading down his tight, tanned body, his hand moving up and down his length, mouth open, panting heavily, eyes shut and long eyelashes wet.

Half in pleasure and half in shock, Harry couldn't stay quiet any longer. He yelped as he came, shooting a white mess right into the palm of his hand.

Louis gave a girly scream. It would have been funny to hear it in _any_ other situation.“Don’t be scared! It's just me!” Harry quickly said, wiping his sticky wet hand on his shirt. Oops –

 _Louis'_ shirt.

“'Arry?” Louis wiped the steam off the glass, giving Harry a look he never wanted to see again. “ _Merde,_ you gave me a shock.” Louis turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He stood in front of Harry, bare naked and dripping wet. His dick was still hard, looking red and angry and put-out from the interruption. “Do you mind?” Louis pointed at the towel rail behind Harry.

“Sorry,” Harry said, cringing at the entire situation, passing Louis a towel that he wrapped around his hips.

Louis' eyes fell on the large wet smear Harry had wiped on his shirt. “Is that – fuck, were you...?” “Don't swear,” Harry mumbled, toeing the floor beneath him.Louis was quickly figuring it out. “Were you _watching me_?”Harry stayed silent.

“Did you like what you saw?” Louis asked, looking like he was biting back glee. “Obviously,” Harry huffed, doing his pants back up. “So... what were _you_ thinking about?” Louis shook his head in dismissal, grabbing the second towel to rub down his hair.“You were watching my show out there. You were watching me,” Harry blurted out. “Shut it,” Louis said - but Harry thought he was blushing a little.

Picking his phone up off the bathroom counter, Louis said, “I’ve just got to make a quick call.” He lowered his voice as he spoke into it, “Hey, Zee. I'm really sorry mate, um, I’ve got... a surprise guest... Yeah, I don't think I can come up tonight. Tell Perrie I'm sorry too... Thanks mate.” Louis hung up the phone, avoiding eye contact with Harry.

Harry didn't quite understand Louis' tone. “What was that about? Why were you going back there? Party's over isn't it?”

“I just – was going to hang out with Zayn and Perrie for a bit,” Louis said, his look of remorse giving him away.

“Wait, were you going to – _eurgh!_ ” Harry said quite loudly, heart sinking heavily. “What's _with_ you, Louis?!”

“Oh, get off your high horse,” Louis spat back, accent getting stronger again, as it always did when he was annoyed. “What's with _you_ , huh? Kissing that girl tonight?”

“You weren't any better, dancing with Zayn and his girlfriend while they were making out! And then you plan to go back to see them! You'll have sex with anyone, won't you? You just want to do _anyone_ you can!” Harry yelled, waving his arms furiously as he emphasised each word.

“ _Don't._ ” Louis' voice had dropped near silent. He strode across the bathroom tiles and stopped so close in front of Harry that Harry wavered a little. “You think that's funny, hm? You think I want anyone as much as I want you? You think I like holding you all night while we sleep then having to hear, ' _I'm not gay, I'm not gay_ ' over and over each day? Do you think I had any fun at the party tonight, having to watch that girl all over your face? You were watching me dance with Zayn and Perrie, hm? You think I want them? You think I've ever wanted anyone as much as I want you?”

No one had ever spoken to Harry like that – Louis sounded _so angry,_ but his words were actually... nice. Harry's heart was hammering twice as hard now, he felt like his chest was about to burst and his palms were sweaty. Harry could feel his bottom lip trembling, but he tried to speak.

It came out shaky. “That's easy for you, though. If you want me. You're allowed to want a guy.” “You think this is easy for me, really? I'm _not_ allowed to want you, 'Arry. You're _sixteen_.”

“Oh.” Harry took in Louis' hurt expression for a moment. “Right. Yeah, well. I don't know, but... I've never wanted anyone else before. Only you.”

“ _Fuck_ you, 'Arry,” Louis whispered, but one of his arms wrapped around Harry's lower back and his other hand gripped the hair at the back of Harry's head, pulling him in close for a rough kiss. Louis made more noise than he normally did, these desperate, almost-sad moans being pushed against Harry’s lips.

Louis ran his fingers through Harry's fringe, moving it back. “You sleeping with me tonight?” “Can I?”“Of course. I'll just finish my shower, yeah?” Louis said, kissing Harry on the cheek.“Can I come in too?” Harry blurted out.

Louis laughed. “I've just got to wash my hair, mon petit. Two minutes.”

“It’s just...” Harry chewed his lip, thinking for a moment. There’s a lot he could explain to Louis, really, but he didn’t want to deal with the facts _himself_. “My head swirls a bit sometimes, you know? It’s a lot quieter when I’m with you.”

Although the shower was only a couple of feet away, Louis linked his fingers through Harry’s, walking him there. He pulled the towel off his hips, letting it drop to the floor.

Harry got undressed, suddenly remembering; “Um - sorry about your top,” he apologised, mortified.

Louis smiled - enjoying it too much, really. “Well, at least you know how to wash it now.”

\-----

The shower was hot and wet and so was Harry, small and soft in his youth. His face was tanned from a life in Texas, but most of his body was pale, especially his ass. It made him look completely untouched.

Louis wrenched his eyes back up to an appropriate level. “You need another trim,” he commented. “Your hair grows fast.”

“Yeah, I know. The girl doing hair for the show wants to cut the sides really short, but keep it longer on top-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Louis said firmly. “I like the curls.” “You don’t think they’re dorky?”

Louis didn’t quite look into Harry’s eyes when he explained, “I like having something to hold on to, you know...”

He washed his own hair quickly, but they both lagged in the shower. Harry kept kissing Louis, their wet lips sliding across each other. Louis was _aching_ , balls feeling like they were twisted from getting halfway there and being interrupted. Harry only exacerbated the situation, pressing his belly up against Louis’ cock as they kissed, wet skin gliding against wet skin. It wasn’t tight enough to provide any real relief though.

“Can you turn around?” Louis asked. Harry obliged immediately, lightly placing a hand on the tiled wall in front of him, steadying himself for what was to come.

Louis sighed in his throat, running his hands over Harry’s ass and admiring his handiwork, the skin still hairless and soft, beads of water trailing down. Louis dropped into a squat, digging his fingers in and pulling Harry’s cheeks apart, licking a long line from his balls to the top of his crack. Harry felt like silk, tasted like water and skin, his hole tight and rippled under Louis’ tongue. Louis didn’t quite push in, just applied more pressure to Harry’s rim as he licked slow circles. Harry whimpered, a shiver crossing his body.

Louis stood up again and gently nudged Harry’s foot with his own to get Harry’s feet right next to each other. With Harry’s wet thighs now pressed against each other, Louis bent his knees slightly to lower himself and slowly pushed his sensitive cock in between Harry’s legs. The head of Louis’ cock slid against Harry’s balls - just as soft and hairless as the cleft of his ass - and they both gasped loudly, the sound echoing off the tile.

Louis leant over Harry, pressing every part of himself into the boy. He could feel his heart beating against Harry’s back and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, needing him to stay close, needing to feel like they were one. Louis moved slowly, aching from how great it felt, sliding his cock in and out of Harry’s thighs.

“This is good,” Harry whispered, and crossed one foot over the other, making it even tighter. Louis felt hot all over, more heat was radiating off Harry in front of him. He would have turned the shower down cooler, but he didn’t want to let go of Harry - the teen was so beautiful, every last part of him; his chocolate brown hair slick from the shower, his head turned to the side so Louis could see those plump pink lips letting obscene little moans and whimpers. Harry was a mess already, just from having his _thighs_ fucked.

“Fuck. _You’re_ good,” Louis said, picking up speed.“Better than a girl could give you?” Harry pressed, his hand squeaking as it slid on the tile.

“Harry,” Louis said weakly - it was meant to be more of a scolding, but Louis felt almost feeble and his voice showed it. He wondered if Harry knew how much power he had over him, how weak Louis was for Harry, if he had any idea at all. “Yes, better than a girl. I don’t want a girl.” The next part hung in the air, unsaid; I want _you._

“Better than Eleanor, do you reckon, because-"

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis admonished, sliding himself out from Harry’s legs and taking a small step away. “You can’t do that, you can’t get jealous of her. It’s just part of work, okay?”

“Come back,” Harry interrupted.

“I’m serious,” Louis whispered, loosely holding Harry’s hips in his hands. “You know, for me, you’re...” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

But Harry said back, “I know. And... you know you are for me.”

The next bit happened so quickly that if Louis had blinked, he wouldn’t have seen it. He’d thrust his hips forward to bury his cock between Harry’s thighs again, but at the exact time Harry had arched his back and pushed his hips behind, coming back to meet Louis instead. Louis’ cock had slipped between the cheeks of Harry’s ass and the head caught Harry’s rim, just for a split second - long enough to feel how wet and _pliant_ Harry's hole felt - before Louis swore loudly and stepped back, luckily not slipping on the wet tiles.

“I’m so sorry!” Louis said, instantly feeling horrified and absolutely _terrible_.“ _Don't do that,_ ” Harry emphasised loudly.“I know - please, Harry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to at all, you just moved at the same time I moved and - _I’m so sorry_ , it’ll never happen again, I pro-”“Don't say sorry, I mean,” Harry interrupted, turning around. The shock had Louis going soft again, but Harry grabbed Louis’ cock firmly in his hand. “I want that. Just like that.”

“No, you don’t, love,” Louis said, fighting to stay standing strong as Harry tugged on his cock.

“Yeah I do. I want to give you what you need, please.”

“I don’t need anything,” Louis said firmly. “I can come just - just like this, this is great.”

“No,” Harry said, slowing his hand right down, making Louis want to scream with frustration. “Want you to come... you know.”

Louis stared at Harry, weakly swallowing.

“Up my bottom,” Harry said very quickly. The phrasing would have been amusing if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

It was a complete turnaround in attitude - Louis wasn’t sure where it had come from, it hadn’t even been a week since Harry had said he couldn’t have anything up his ass, and now he was asking for it - for Louis’ _dick_ , nonetheless. The problem was, everything felt so right with Harry, but there’s no way that could be right. Not so soon. Not after the day they’d had.

“Mon petit, no,” Louis pleaded. “You’ve been drinking tonight, I can’t.”

“I had one a beer! Hours ago!” Harry protested. “And in case you don’t remember, you stole my cup when it was only half-finished.” He turned around, giving Louis full view of his pale, perky bum.

“Fuck, you look good,” Louis moaned, his own hand seizing himself where Harry had let go. “Just stay like this for me, let me look at you, let me lick your ass while I come.”

“Nope. I know what I want, okay. You can’t have me any other way tonight.”“You’re not being fair,” Louis spat out.“Don’t wanna be fair.” Harry pouted. “Wanna be good, for you, want your thing up m-"

“Shut up!” Louis shouted frantically, because he wasn’t strong enough for this. He turned the shower off - resisting the urge to twist the tap and douse Harry in icy-cold water - and stepped out into the bathroom.

“Wait, come back,” Harry said. “You know you want to do me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Harry,” Louis warned, wrapping a towel around himself, his blue balls wrenching at his guts, begging for mercy.

“Why don’t you _care_ about me?” Harry wailed, getting out of the shower too.“You need to stop this right now,” Louis said, not-gently throwing a towel at Harry. “Nothing is happening tonight _because_ I care about you. You’re not ready, okay. Come to bed.”“You would have done Zayn and his slut of a girlfriend!” Harry said, apparently too angry to care about not swearing.“You’re being a brat,” Louis spat out. “You’ve been a brat all night.”

“I’m not a brat, I’m just a teenager,” Harry hissed back.

“That’s bullshit. You know better than this.”

“Why won’t you let me be what you want?”

“You need to lower your voice, we’re in a fucking hotel. What I want you to do is get into bed and _sleep_ , okay?”

Louis pulled on a pair of clean underwear, biting his lip to try to feel something besides his cock, positively _throbbing_. He left the bathroom, sitting heavily on his hotel bed. A naked Harry, hair dripping wet from the shower, followed.

“What about what I want, then?” Harry said, voice still desperate and loud.

“What do you want?” Louis sighed, feeling a headache creeping up in his temples. He didn’t want to fight with Harry. That was the absolute last thing he wanted.

“You know what I want. I want you to finish what you started in the shower. I want to have s...” the last word caught in Harry’s throat and he trailed off, anguish crossing his face. “Hey, don’t do that, don’t trick me.”

“What?”“Don’t trick me like that!” Harry said hotly. “Don’t make me say that! I can’t - I don’t want _that_!”

“Hey, it’s okay to want it,” Louis said gently, trying to soothe him. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to have sex tonight, okay? It’s fine, you’re fine.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you!” Harry hollered. The flare in his nostrils was a dead giveaway to the lie, but Louis ignored it. “I have to save myself for marriage, with a girl! Okay!”

“Okay, we both agree then, no sex tonight. So there isn’t a problem. Bedtime, yeah?”Harry gave Louis’ shoulder a hard shove instead. “I do _not_ want you to do me! I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m _not!_ ” Harry stormed back into the bathroom.Louis sighed heavily, shuffling back on the bed, too tired to even pull the covers up over himself.

He was still aching, but he was too riled up to finish himself off.

Harry reappeared after a few minutes, topless with his jeans back on. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, catching his breath for a minute, eyes burning into Louis’.

“I don’t want to fight,” Louis said. He _didn’t_ want to fight, mostly because he cared about Harry... but also just a little bit because if Harry told absolutely anyone what had gone on between them since Louis arrived in America, Louis would be in very hot water. “I’m sorry. I know you were just trying to give me what I wanted. It’s my fault.”

“Oh, jeepers,” Harry said softly. “Don’t say that.” There was a moment’s silence and then Harry had walked across the room and gotten onto the bed, landing heavily besides Louis and burying his face out of sight in Louis’ armpit. Muffled, he continued. “Not your fault. My fault. I do want you. I can’t. I’m a bad person, because I do want you.”

Louis’ arm felt wet, and he wasn’t sure if it was Harry’s damp hair or if Harry was crying, but it didn’t really matter.

“You’re not a bad person, mon petit. You’re just stressed,” Louis said, picking up Harry’s hand in his. “We can’t fight though, we’re on the same team, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, but he sounded sad. “You and I, same team. You’re all I’ve got. Everyone else would kill me if they knew - I mean. If they _thought_ I was gay.”

“That’s not true. Everyone who matters will love you for you.”

Harry shrugged like he didn't really believe that. “Anyway. Will you go back to France one day?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Louis said, although he hadn’t really thought about what was next for him. “I mean, I guess I'll have to. I couldn’t hack America for too long.”

“Take me with you,” Harry urged, sitting up. “What?” Louis laughed.“Take me with you!” Harry repeated. “You’re crazy.” Louis smiled.

Harry leant down and kissed him. “Let’s finish this show and then run away together so we can stop worrying about everything.”

“You don’t speak French,” Louis pointed out.Harry sat up straight again, holding up his damp fringe to mirror Louis’ usual quiff. “ _Taa geeeeuuul_. _Mon peteeee. Merrrrde,_ ” he mimicked, looking smug. “I’m just as fluent as you are.”

“You’re a shit.” Louis laughed, pulling Harry back down to kiss. “And you taste delicious.”

“You haven’t - you know. Finished off,” Harry said, his hand nudging the middle of Louis’ thighs.

“Don’t remind me,” Louis muttered. “It’s okay, I’m getting used to it.”

Harry’s hand shifted, snaking up under the leg of Louis’ underpants, rubbing against his cock. Louis felt tight and a little sore under Harry’s touch, hot and more than ready to finally come.

“What do you want?” Harry asked softly, fingertips gently rubbing the tip of Louis’ cock, wet and sensitive.

“This is good,” Louis said, biting his lip.“Yes, but what do you _want_. You can have whatever you want, you know.” Harry breathed. “Jesus,” Louis whimpered highly. “I want to...”“Yeah?” Harry encouraged, his hand heavier.Louis closed his eyes, uncharacteristically shy. “I want to come on your face, Harry.”

“Okay,” Harry said nervously. “Okay, you can. Just - um, how?” He laughed.

“Here.” Louis got Harry to lie down on the bed, and straddled his chest. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

“ _Girls_ are pretty.” Harry blushed, embarrassed.Louis grabbed Harry’s jaw in one hand and his own cock in the other, immediately wanking himself furiously. “ _You’re_ pretty. Those _lips._ ”Harry licked his lips, and said, “Give me your fingers.”

Louis dipped two fingertips in between Harry’s lips. Harry sucked, and Louis’ fingers easily slid in further. Harry’s mouth was so wet, tongue running so much saliva over Louis’ fingers that some slid out of his pink lips, his whole mouth slick.

Harry tried to talk through Louis’ fingers - they both laughed at the gibberish, and Louis removed his soaked fingers. “Do what you were doing to yourself in the shower,” Harry demanded.

Harry’s hands found Louis’ arse, each cupping a cheek. He spread them, his arms supporting some of Louis’ weight.

Louis moved his wet hand behind his back, and rubbed his hole with his wet fingers – fingers wet with _Harry’s spit._ Still warmed up from the shower, his two fingers went in relatively easily, but he felt nice and tight. Clenching his rim around his knuckles, other his arm starting to feel a little tired as he jerked himself off, Louis looked right at Harry’s face.

He looked so soft, his green eyes sparkling like he was in awe of Louis on top of him. His chest felt tiny between Louis’ thighs. Harry stared right back, his lips still wet and slightly parted.

“Harry, I’m gonna-” Louis gasped, and Harry obliged by opening his lips a little further. “Oh, have mercy,” Louis muttered, because Harry was fucking perfect and Louis was fucking gone.

Harry’s hand dropped one of Louis’ ass cheeks and then one of his fingers was pushing into Louis’ hole alongside Louis' own two fingers. It was a little too rough, a little too dry, but it was so intense and Louis felt himself stretching so beautifully, his own fingers squeezed tightly against Harry’s.

Louis’ stomach jerked and he fell down hard onto both their fingers as he _finally_ came, spurting a large amount of creamy come over Harry’s lips and tongue. Harry’s eyes closed in bliss, and thank god they did because Louis’ orgasm only strengthened, pushing harder as his come landed on Harry’s dark eyelashes. Harry’s eyes squeezed shut harder, and he giggled, looking so perfectly sweet with Louis' white mess all over his face.

Harry slowly slid his finger out of Louis’ hole. Louis pulled his fingers out too, let go of his cock with his other hand and wiped Harry’s eye clean.

“Kiss me,” Harry whispered.

Louis shuffled down to Harry’s waist and leant forward. “Mon garçon,” Louis said appreciatively. “Thank you.” He kissed Harry, who tasted perfectly like himself and like Louis’ come. “Come to the bathroom, I’ll clean your face off.”

“Just use your tongue,” Harry said, his eyes still shut. Louis ran his tongue over Harry’s cheek until he was licked clean. “Tickles.” Harry giggled, wiping his face against the pillow.

Louis got off Harry, lying down next to him in bed. Harry rolled to the side and Louis followed him, wrapping Harry’s back with his own warm body.

“It’s you and me, isn’t it, mon petit?” Louis said, although he wasn’t _exactly_ sure what he was asking.

“You and me,” Harry agreed.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Louis. _Louis!_ ”

Louis didn't often allow himself to be woken up – he had the ability to ignore most sounds and be asleep again in sixty seconds - but something in the tone of Harry's voice stirred him. He forced his eyes open and as soon as he sat up, Harry pushed a hot cup of coffee into his hands.

“ _Merci,_ ” he said hesitantly, noticing that the sun hadn't risen yet. “You have to buy me new clothes,” Harry blurted out.

Louis smiled in confusion, but his face dropped quickly when he saw how completely serious Harry was. “What?”

“For on the show, for publicity stuff, everything.”

“What's wrong with what we got?” Louis asked, taking a sip of coffee to mask the hurt quiver of his lip. There's a lot things Louis could receive a jab to - his height, his accent, his secret love for band t-shirts, the way his left eye sometimes squinted more than the right one when he smiled in photos – but his sense of style was not to be insulted.

“What's wrong with it?” Harry cried, outraged. “Four hundred dollar Dolce & Gabbana jeans? Silk shirts from Burberry? Socks from Lacoste that cost thirty dollars for one pair? Blazers with shiny lapels? No one my age wears that stuff! I'm sixteen, Louis! Kids my age wear polo shirts and sweatpants and socks from Walmart!”

“I don't think Walmart is quite up to standard for television,” Louis murmured into his cup.

Harry gave him a push to the shoulder, and to avoid burning himself Louis lost half his hot coffee to the bedspread. “Watch it,” Louis scolded, setting the cup aside.

“Well don't be a dick!” Harry then bit his lip, wincing at his own swearing. “Don't be annoying, I mean. I'm not saying Walmart. I'm just saying you have to get me some normal clothes.”

“What's this about?” Louis sighed, bundling up the coffee-stained bedsheet.

Harry paused for a second, green eyes burning into Louis' blue, then he lunged for his phone and threw it into Louis' lap.

“Open the first text,” Harry ordered. “It's from one of my friends. You met him at my going-away party.”

Louis followed Harry's instructions, reading; _Dude, show was sick! Loved the band too TELL ME U GOT AUTOGRAPHS! Whats w all the fancy clothes tho? U look kinda poofy lol._

Louis' eyes flicked back up to Harry, who was starting to flush red with anger – or was it embarrassment?

“He's not the only one saying it, you know! Everyone's saying I look like a fag! It's a effing disaster!”

 

“Calm down, mon petit-”

“ _Don't call me that!”_ Harry spat out.

Louis was shocked.

“Okay, calm down _Harry_. I'm sure not everyone's saying it. I know what I'm doing. You look good, and you look normal, I promise.”

“Jeremy will take my side, you know!” Harry said hotly. “He won't want people saying I look gay.”

“I think even Jeremy's smart enough to know good clothes don't dictate where you stick your dick,” Louis pointed out sourly. “He wears Armani suits.”

“I don't care! I'm not wearing what we have now! I don't want to look like a poof, I want _normal clothes_ okay! No more Louis Vuitton, no more Chanel, no more Saint Laurent, and _no more stupid Prada sweaters!_ ”

“Hey,” Louis said softly, heart sinking. “The Prada sweater was just for us. When we're together... alone.”

Harry hesitated over Louis' hurt expression.

“I'll get you new clothes,” Louis promised, taking the chance that the silence gave him. “Today. In fact, right now!” He leapt out of bed and opened the wardrobe, silently willing Harry to break out of his mood.

“You don't have to do it right now,” Harry mumbled.

“Oh, but I _do!_ ” Louis teased, jumping on the spot as he pulled on a pair of tight jeans. “It's an 'effing disaster', isn't it? A global catastrophe! I'm surprised we haven't heard the air raid sirens yet.”

“Shh,” Harry said, his furrowed brow fighting with the upturned corners of his lips. The smile won out on his face.

“No, really,” Louis went on in pseudo-seriousness as he buttoned up a shirt. “I'll write a shopping list while you call Obama. We need an official statement from the White House about this one, don't we?”

“Shut up.” Harry giggled. “You haven't even had breakfast.”

“No time for food! I must _shop_ , Harry! I must find the most super-macho, super-straight, manly- man, dirt-cheap clothes that Los Angeles has to offer!”

“Where are you going to find them?” Harry asked, indulging Louis' charade.

“The hardware shop.” Louis pulled Harry off the bed, pretending to asses him from head to toe. “Oui, oui. I'm thinking mountain-climbing boots on the feet. And a suit made out of sandpaper. Just head-to-toe sandpaper, ready for all your wood-carving needs.”

Harry dissolved into laughter, looking at Louis like he lit up the universe. When Harry's shoulders had stopped shaking, Louis gave the top of his head a kiss.

“Did a lot of people really say that?” Louis asked, hugging Harry close.

“A few,” Harry mumbled into Louis' neck.

“A few?”

“... Just him,” Harry admitted.

“One person!” Louis laughed, pulling Harry back a little bit to look him in the eye. “Just one idiot who think that expensive clothes are 'gay'?”

“Yeah... Yeah. He's stupid.”

“And you let him get to you?” Louis asked softly, tucking one of Harry's curls behind his ear.

“I don't like being called a poof.”

“No, I don't either,” Louis agreed.

“But you are one,” Harry pointed out. Louis' shoulders fell, and Harry quickly added, “That doesn't make it okay for anyone to say that to you! It's just that... _I'm_ not a.. you know.”

“You're not gay, yeah,” Louis said in exasperation. “You've mentioned, just once or twice.” “Sorry,” Harry said, very very _very_ quietly.

“Either way,” Louis said, “It's not a very nice thing for your friend to have called you. Do you really want new clothes?”

“No,” Harry admitted.

“You should tell your mate that you were wearing those 'poofy' clothes when you were rubbing shoulders with Little Mix.” Louis suggested.

Harry smiled so big his dimple showed. “I will.”

“Look, I'm dressed now, shall we go out for breakfast? Our flight's in the early afternoon but we've actually got time to go out, since you woke me up so early. ”

Harry's eyes lit up. “Can we?”

“Of course. Did you want to go get changed?” Louis nodded at the hotel room's door.

“I can just wear something of yours,” Harry suggested.

“If you want,” Louis said slowly. “But – I mean – what I wear is more, you know... 'poofy' than what I've got for you.”

“Oh, it's not that bad,” Harry admonished, rifling through the wardrobe. He chose the speckled black v-neck tee that Louis had worn to the nightclub in New York, awkwardly holding it up for approval. Louis nodded, even though he preferred Harry in white.

“Sorry I snapped at you.” Harry's voice was muffled as he pulled the t-shirt on on. “You can apologise to me face-to-face,” Louis said, trying to not sound _too_ stern.

T-shirt now on, Harry took a breath and met his eyes with Louis'. “I'm sorry I woke you up. I'm sorry I called you a dick. I'm sorry I said you can't call me _mon petit._ You still can. And I do love the Prada sweater and...” Harry trailed off, his eyes dropping down.

“And?”

“I want to wear it every time we're alone together and I want to be alone together every day,” Harry finished in a rush, giving Louis a quick peck on the cheek.

He really was too sweet sometimes.

“Crisis averted,” Louis commented, standing to do his hair in the mirror. “Crisis averted,” Harry agreed.“ _Big_ crisis averted, though. You were about to kill me,” Louis stressed. “I said I was sorry,” Harry said quietly, putting his shoes on.

“I know. I just... I thought we weren't going to fight any more.”

“That wasn't us fighting!” Harry protested as they walked to the elevator. “That was just me freaking out.”

“Okay.” Louis smiled at Harry, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the next freak-out might not end so amicably.

\-----

“Off to Washington today!” Harry commented brightly as they walked the streets of Hollywood, still a little chilly in the early morning.

“Ah. Political stuff's all there, right?”

“Not the city, the state!” Harry laughed. “The city's on the opposite side of the country. The state's just two above LA.”

“Well. There you go.” Louis nodded.

“We're going to Seattle.” Harry knew pride wasn't a virtue, but it was pretty cool knowing about something when Louis didn't. So he went on. “Seattle Seahawks won the superbowl. _Dominated_ Denver _._ Absolutely pounded them.”

“Dominated,” Louis repeated, smirking. “Pounded them.” “Shh, Louis!” Harry protested, laughing.“Go on then,” Louis said, ushering Harry into a cafe.

“Seattle, um... Jimi Hendrix was born in Seattle. He was some guitar guy, I don't know. My sister talks about him.” Harry sat down at a table by the window. “There's the Space Needle tower in

Seattle, you see it in all the photos. It was built in the 60's, I think. And you know the movie _Sleepless In Seattle_?”

“Let me guess, filmed in Seattle?”“Hah! Trick question. Most of it was filmed in New York City, then Baltimore.” “Cheater.” Louis smiled, perusing the menu.

Just after they'd ordered, Louis' phone rang. He made a funny face at the number on the screen.

“ _Pronto? Chi parla?_ ” he answered, and continued to speak in stilted Italian. Halfway through the short conversation he waved a hand at Harry, whispering “ _Pucci!_ ”, which meant absolutely nothing to Harry.

Louis' mouth tightened as the conversation went on. All Harry could make out from the Italian was “Seattle”, then “no, no”, then “Las Vegas”.

When he hung up, he explained to Harry, “Emilio Pucci CEO, 'Arry! Headhunting me. _Moi!_ ” He sat back in his seat, proud. “ _Begging_ me to come back to work in fashion.”

“A new job?” Harry asked carefully. “After Modern Missionary, of course.” “In America?”“ _Non_ , in Italy.”

“Will you take me with you, if you get the job?” Harry asked quickly. “I mean – only because I want to travel, you know.” Not because he couldn't bear the thought of Louis being in a different country to him. He didn't care. They were just friends.

“Big 'if'.” Louis smiled. “It's very early stages. They're flying someone over to meet up with me when we get to Vegas. You can't tell _anyone_ though, okay? Can't have CNTV knowing, can't have the media knowing.”

“Of course.” said Harry. Except maybe he _should_ sabotage it, so Louis wouldn't move back to Europe the second the show was done, leaving Harry alone in Texas once more.

\-----

Their twin plates of eggs benedict weren't half finished when three paparazzi appeared outside the window of the cafe, cameras flashing.

“ _Merde,_ ” Louis said under his breath as he stood up, “ _C'est quoi ce bordel?_ ”“I _know_ you're swearing, you know,” Harry warned as he followed Louis to the back of the restaurant. Harry's eyes flicked back to the window, worried.

Louis grabbed a waitress on her way out of the kitchen. “There's paparazzi at the front. I'm so sorry, I have no idea how they found us – or why they bothered to do so. Is there another exit we could use?”

She peered excitedly out at the photographers before leading Louis and Harry back through the kitchen, calling them a taxi on the way.

“I recognise you!” she said to Harry. “Your face is on, like, three billboards on the drive from here to my house.”

“Modern Missionary, it's a new TV show,” Harry said proudly.“Could I get a photo with you, please?” she asked when they reached the back door. “Sure!” Harry said. “I mean... I can, can't I?” he asked Louis.“May as well, since the paps have already got you.” _In my shirt_ , Louis added in his head.

Safe behind the tinted windows of a cab, Louis turned to Harry. “You all right? That was a bit of a surprise. Kind of fucked-up, actually, maybe someone working at the hotel tipped them off. Sorry breakfast was ruined. I thought we'd be okay since it was so early in the morning.... I'm so sorry,” he finished helplessly. He'd just wanted to be able to take Harry out, be together in public without a worry, just once more before Harry's fame completely blew up.

“Um...” Harry bit his lip. “Don't say sorry. It might've been my fault. I instagrammed a picture of breakfast, and I might've checked in.”

“Might have?”

“Definitely checked in. _I'm_ sorry.”

“Show me,” Louis asked calmly, holding out his hand for Harry's phone.

Under a photo of their breakfast plates, Harry had typed the caption: _Egg Off :) Benedict for two at Tiago Espresso Bar_.

It was kind of cute. It was definitely stupid.“Jesus, Harry.” Louis sighed. Benedict for two?“I didn't tag you or anything!” Harry said miserably. “Should I delete it?”“I don't think so, that will just look like we have something to hide.”“Yeah,” Harry agreed.“I mean – we don't,” Louis said sharply. “We're allowed to get breakfast with each other.”

“I know,” Harry said carefully.

“It's just that if anyone picks up those paparazzi shots, people are going to quickly figure out that 'for two' was with me.”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, _no_ ,” Harry whispered, horrified, as he sunk into the backseat of the cab. Louis stole a glace at the taxi driver, who was hopefully as lost in the radio's song as he appeared to be.

He reached for Harry's hand. “It's fine, okay? You've got to be cool. I'll have to tell Jeremy and the social media girls that the paparazzi were there.” Louis silently cursed himself, hating how he suddenly felt like he was doing a Big Bad Thing with Harry.

“Okay.” Harry nodded, squeezing Louis' hand back, but it looked like he was fighting back tears. “I'm sorry I messed up so bad."

Louis lifted Harry's hand and kissed it, but then let go completely. “You're fine, mon petit,” Louis tried to reassure him. “No one's going to think twice about this. I'm sure we're worrying over nothing. We should have just finished our eggs.”

Louis had talked to one of the social media girls straight away, but Jeremy didn't knock on Louis' hotel door for three more hours, standing stern with Harry trailing behind him.

Louis wished Harry could look a fraction _less_ like a terribly guilty puppy.

“Google alert just went off. Your little breakfast's gone public,” Jeremy said, passing over his iPad. The photos were fine – Louis was pretty sure it just looked like his legs were stretched out under the table. You couldn't tell Louis' ankle was pressed up against Harry's, unless you were really looking for it.

”Look, the publicity's great. This is the kind of thing we want, nice natural appearances.”

Louis was about to correct Jeremy – _it wasn't a bloody appearance, we were truly getting breakfast together –_ but Jeremy didn't need to know that, did he? Let him think that Louis had deigned to eat breakfast with Harry, that Harry's loose-lipped Instagram post was calculated.

“We just don't want to be too hasty with it before we've refocussed your image,” Jeremy went on. “We're not making you, we're recreating you. Damage control time – I'd like to get you and Eleanor together, alone. Perhaps for dinner?”

Louis' eyes flicked across to Harry. Jeremy wasn't exactly speaking candidly about the bearding in front of him, his words were chosen carefully, but he was also kind of speaking like Harry wasn't even there. Harry _was_ listening, though;

“Soup kitchen,” Harry spoke up. “What?” Jeremy asked, mildly irritated.

“They should go to a soup kitchen. Instead of a dinner date. There's heaps of homeless people here, there's got to be a Christian soup kitchen that they could both volunteer at for the day.”

Jeremy looked at Harry for a moment, downright impressed. “Right, that's not bad at all – good photo opportunity, and we've got you looking charitable, and Christian, _and_ with Eleanor. Not bad, Harry, not bad at all. I'll get Linda to sort it out, she'll be in touch with you ASAP. That's all,” he finished, turning to the door.

“What about the flight?” Louis pointed out. “We're supposed to leave in two hours.”

“We'll pop you on the tour bus.” Jeremy waved his hand dismissively. “That's what it's for. If Linda finds you a soup kitchen for this afternoon, you can be on the bus tonight and back with us in Seattle by midday tomorrow.”

“Can I -” Harry began to ask, but Louis cut him off with a nudge and a small shake of his head. Harry shot him a look, and continued. “Can I get the bus too?”

“If you want,” Jeremy said. “But then you've all got to be ready for photos when you arrive at the hotel. I'll make sure Linda gets your luggage on with our flight.”

“That was a really good idea, about volunteering,” Louis said to Harry back in his hotel room, insisting on helping Harry to pack his bags. “Didn't realise you were so... clever with this 'image' nonsense.”

“I didn't even think about the image stuff,” Harry admitted, zipping up his suitcase. “Just.... didn't think you'd want to be doing a candlelight dinner or something.”

“Not with Eleanor,” Louis agreed.

“Who would you -” Harry began to ask, but he cut himself off. “Doesn't matter. Why didn't you want me to get the bus with you?”

“It's not that I don't want you on the bus. It's just that you're the star of the show. You heard what Jeremy said. Now there's going to be paparazzi waiting when we arrive. _More_ photos of us. More attention on us.” Louis grimaced, because he hated this part, he really did. It was all fun and delightful with Harry until he was reminded that it was one huge, fucked-up secret.

“I'm not doing anything wrong getting the bus with you,” Harry said.“That's true.”“It's everything else I've done that's wrong,” Harry went on, nodding slowly.“We haven't done anything wrong,” Louis said. _Besides break the law by being together._ “I know you think so. Don't think God agrees,” Harry said sadly.

Eleanor met Louis in the hotel lobby later that day. “Are they Bettina Lianos?” Louis sneered at her jeans. “Australian designer,” Eleanor said proudly.

“Australian _tacky_.” Louis sighed. “Yeah, but look at my _ass_ in them!” And Louis couldn't argue with her there.

They drove to the soup kitchen with one of the social media girls from the Modern Missionary team, a large camera slung around her neck and her thumb not _once_ leaving her iPhone.

It didn't feel very altruistic, ladling soup from large pots and handing it over to Hollywood's homeless, all while the media girl hissed, “ _Smile_ ,” at them every ten minutes. Luckily with an activity at hand Louis didn't need to worry about cosying up to Eleanor – it really was a clever idea of Harry's.

They were set up in the back courtyard of a church. It was early afternoon, so the weather was fine, but Louis' couldn't help but think of nightfall, when the sun had set and these people's bellies were no longer filled with hot soup – what then? Before he talked himself out of it, he shrugged of his coat and wrapped it around a feeble looking old woman, who wept in gratitude and pressed a kiss to each of Louis' cheeks. In his peripheral, Louis could see the media girl dancing about with her camera. He cringed.

“That was really sweet of you,” Eleanor told him when he'd returned. “But don't Burberry coats cost, like, three grand?”

“There's plenty more Burberry where that came from,” Louis dismissed.“All right,” Eleanor said, like she didn't believe him.“I haven't gone soft!” Louis protested. “It's just.. It's what Harry would have done.”

They finished washing up in good time, well before evening fell, and got straight onto the bus. Harry was already onboard, cosy on the couch up back under a blanket. When he saw Louis he peeled the blanket down a little, revealing just a flash of his blue Prada sweater.

The social media girl had already collapsed into a bunk, and Eleanor sat at the table facing the front, so Louis flopped down next to Harry on the couch. Harry curled inward, fitting into Louis like a puzzle piece, and fell asleep.

Louis couldn't fall asleep, lest in his slumber he wrapped an arm around Harry, or did worse. He kept his eyes open and alert, fantasised about the job at Pucci, and watched the occasional lit-up building rush by the window.

Around midnight Eleanor whispered, “Cute,” at the sleeping Harry and climbed into a bunk to sleep.

When the sun rose, so did Louis, desperate for coffee. He'd risk third-degree burns under the driver's erratic brakes and turns – he could get by on no sleep easy, but he couldn't get by without caffeine.

\-----

“ _Putain!_ ” Louis' loud shout woke Harry. He sat up, neck stiff from falling asleep on the couch. Louis was at the front of the bus by the small kitchenette, swearing in a mix of languages. Hand on the bunks to keep himself steady, Harry walked to the front of the bus.

Eleanor beat him there, leaping in front of Louis and quickly unbuttoning his coffee-stained pants while Louis winced. She was _undressing_ him.

“I can do that,” Harry said loudly. “I'll sort this out.”

“He's spilled hot coffee, Harry,” Eleanor said. "I'm getting these off before they burn him any worse." She didn't even turn around to look at Harry, just pulled Louis' jeans down to his ankles and assessed his red thighs. Louis didn't stop her. He just stepped out of his pants.

“Let me do it! He's not your boyfriend! He's my – ” Harry spat out. Oops. “He's my wardrobe guy.”

“Jeez. Sorry, kid,” Eleanor said.

“Don't call me kid!” Harry yanked on her arm, pulling her to stand.

“ _'Arry_ ,” Louis warned, voice low. “Eleanor's just 'elping. Is _your_ first-aid up to date?”

“Yeah, it is, actually,” Harry said smugly, pushing past Eleanor to look at Louis' thighs. “I was a scout leader through my church, in case you didn't know.”

“Well pin a rose on your nose,” Eleanor huffed as she sat down at the table.

“It's not a bad burn at all,” Harry said, relieved. “You should put a wet cloth on it to take the heat out, though. And keep it moisturised for a few days.”

“What am I going to _wear_ , though?” Louis all but wailed. “What? That's what you're worried about?” Harry laughed.

“Yes! My pants are stained and there's going to be paparazzi at the hotel and all my luggage is already there!” Louis said, slumping down in the booth beside Eleanor.

“There's bathrobes upstairs,” Eleanor suggested, pointing to the back of the bus. “I saw them in the little bathroom up there.”

“I'm not wearing a fucking bathrobe!” Louis was appalled at the suggestion. “Not in photographs!”

“Well then just wear your pants as they are.”

“With a coffee stain? _No way,_ ” Louis said firmly. “Well, you don't have another choice,” Eleanor argued.

Harry giggled as he wet a couple of washcloths. Louis was so cute, how much he cared about what he was wearing. Harry found it adorable. Eleanor was clearly annoyed. Of course she'd be. She didn't _get_ Louis like Harry did.

“One of you can go into the hotel before me to get me a pair of my pants from my luggage.” Louis pleaded.

“We have to be photographed _together_ , idiot,” she sighed. “I can't go in ahead of you."

“I can't do it,” Louis said bleakly. “It'll be the end of me.”

“You can wear my jeans,” Harry said, gently smoothing the wet cloths over Louis' thighs. Louis' lovely, plump thighs, still gorgeous even when they were bright red. Absolutely _luscious_.

“Ah!” Louis said sharply. “Don't _squeeze_ them, I just burned them. Look, I can't wear your jeans, what will you wear then?”

“I'll wear a bathrobe.”

“You'll be photographed in it! They'll print you in a magazine!”

“I don't mind,” Harry insisted.

“ _In a bathrobe!_ ” Louis wailed, as if it were the absolute worst possible situation a man could find himself caught in.

“It's fine,” Harry said as he headed up the back of the bus to get himself a robe.

“Modern Missionary, he is!” Louis said to Eleanor, loud enough for Harry to hear. “He's certainly saving me.”

“Calm down,” Eleanor said. “It's just a pair of pants.”

They arrived at the hotel late morning, where indeed photographers were waiting. They emerged, smiling; Louis in Harry's jeans and Harry in a bathrobe.

Harry tried to not be annoyed when Louis relieved Eleanor of her big handbag. It was just for the photos, right?

“And they say chivalry’s dead.” Eleanor smiled behind sunglasses, giving Louis a peck on the cheek as they walked into the hotel.

A text message from Linda to Harry informed him that he had the afternoon off to rest up before filming tomorrow.

A text message from Harry to Louis informed him that the minibar in hotel room 9102 had enough Ben & Jerry's for two.

“That was really sweet, what you did on the bus,” Louis said softly, his forehead resting against Harry's, their fingers intertwined as the sun set.

Louis had appeared at Harry's hotel room door, Harry's jeans in one arm and a grateful smile on his face. They'd built a blanket fort, shared a tub of icecream inside it, then collapsed onto the bed, tummies too full to do anything but cuddle and talk, conversation peppered with a lot of tiny little kisses.

“It wasn't a big deal,” Harry said. "That's what friends do.”“It is a big deal,” Louis insisted. “You wore a _dressing gown_. In _public_.”

“You'd do the same for me.” Harry shrugged, then laughed at Louis' incredulous expression. “Okay, you wouldn't wear bathrobe. But you'd do other stuff. You're a good friend.”

“Am I?” Louis asked. “I don't know if I know how to be.”

“You're doing fine,” Harry promised him. Sometimes – just sometimes - it seemed like Louis was the younger one.

“I don't know if I've ever had a proper friend,” Louis divulged. “I'd go to the same clubs with the same people every night, or I'd do favours for people at work who did favours for me, or I'd have certain people who shared drugs with me for free, or invited me around for dinner... but I think maybe most people were so nice to me because I had a lot of power in fashion, a lot of pull in the industry. And now all they care about is 'When are you coming back?'. They don't seem to care what life is like for me here, now.”

“What about Zayn?” Harry asked.

“Zayn was just a face to me,” Louis admitted sadly. “Just another body to dress. I wasn't an asshole to him or anything, he was happy to run into me in LA, wasn't he? But I wasn't a _friend_ of his. Maybe I am now though.”

“The film director in New York?” Harry tried. Louis was so great to Harry, honestly he was – surely Harry wasn't the first.

“I _love_ Joni. And I only see her twice a year.” Louis laughed sadly.

Louis looked so sad that Harry had to kiss him properly – and that wasn't a romantic thing, or anything like that. It was just to cheer him up. It seemed to work, their lips moving soft against each other until Louis let out a happy sigh that made Harry's heart leap.

“You're a good friend,” Harry repeated.“I want to be a good friend to you,” Louis said, pressing his lips together as if to trap the kiss

Harry had left there. “Because... _Je t'aime,_ 'Arry, I care about you.”

Harry knew just enough French to know that wasn't exactly a direct translation. He couldn't look into Louis' eyes when he asked, “You... care about me?”

“ _Oui_ , I care about you. When I said you're my best friend in Texas? You were my best friend in the City too and my best friend in Hollywood. You're my best friend here in Seattle. I've never talked to anyone like I'm talking to you now. You're probably my best friend anywhere.”

“Even in Paris?” Harry asked, eyes glinting.“ _Oui!_ ” Louis said with so much enthusiasm that the mattress shook a little. “Then take me there,” Harry urged.

“Shh.” Louis waved Harry's comment away, continuing. “You're my first true friend, 'Arry. I want to take you out to breakfast every morning and cuddle you every night and I want to kiss you every minute of every day.”

Suddenly Harry's eyes were prickling and his throat was tight and he didn't know how to _tell_ Louis, but he had to try. “That's not friendship, Louis.”

“Ah?”

“Don't you think that's more than just friends? Cuddling and kissing?” Harry started to feel sick in his stomach, taste sick in his mouth too. “You've done that stuff with people before, _you_ know! That's not what just-friends do, is it?” Harry demanded to know.

“No, it's not,” Louis admitted slowly. “It's more than friends. And I like you a lot more than anyone else I've done that with before.”

“What's that supposed to mean, then?” Harry asked, sitting up. He could hear his voice getting panicked, but he _felt_ panicked. “Because, Louis, you're _not_ my first proper friend. I've had a lot of good friends. I can tell you now, I didn't want to do any stuff with them like I want to do with you.”

Louis just _smiled_ at that and sat up too, shuffling over for a kiss as if this wasn't earth-shattering, as if this wasn't life-stopping, as if this wasn’t the end of everything as Harry knew it.

Harry leapt off the bed, chest feeling so tight he wanted to rip his lungs right open so he could properly breathe. “That isn't okay! To think of a boy as more than friends!” he said, voice absolutely shrill.

“It is okay, it's fine,” Louis said, reaching a hand out. “Please, let's not fight-”

“This isn't a fight, it's my _life!_ ” Harry said, beginning to pace back and forth on the carpet. “If I like anyone more than a friend it has to be a girl! I have to get married in five or ten years! That's just the way things are done. And if I'm any different, my family will hate me, my friends will hate me, _God will hate me!_ ”

“Will you hate yourself?” Louis asked quietly. Harry stopped pacing.

“Or is that really what you want?” Louis went on, still sad and quiet. “You want to get married. And I can't give you that. I can't even hold your hand in public. Any girl could.”

“Oh, don't be like that,” Harry moaned. “I don't want to hold hands with a girl, girls are _gross_.” “They are.” Louis laughed.

“I want to hold hands with _you,_ ” Harry blurted out, then began to pace again as he took up argument with himself. “No, no, _no_ , I don't want to hold hands with a boy. That's wrong, that's a sin, that's _bad, I can't be bad_.”

“Stay with me, 'Arry,” Louis pleaded, patting the bed next to him. “Don't have another freak-out, just stay with me.”

“I can't help it!” Harry said, waving his arms like a madman.

“ _Tu peux essayer_ , for me, can you try?” Louis urged. “Hop back in bed, just breathe. I'll hold you. We'll go to sleep.”

“No, you have to go back to your own room,” Harry said thickly. As soon as the words were out he regretted it, because Louis obediently stood to leave. “I'm not in love with you,” Harry said harshly, mostly trying to convince himself.

“Good,” Louis spat out, his brow low. “I don't fall in love with _anyone_.” His hand met the doorknob.

“You thought I wanted to have sex with you in the shower the other night,” Harry stammered.

He wanted Louis to agree, say _yes, you did_ so he could yell back _no, I didn't! I don't want to have sex with a man! I'm not gay!_ Because maybe if he screamed it at the top of his lungs it would start to sound true again.

Louis didn't say anything at all. He took his lower lip between his teeth and stared at Harry like he was biting back tears.

“You thought breakfast yesterday was a _date,_ ” Harry pushed.“Well I learnt my lesson, didn't I?” Louis twisted the doorknob. “I won't try again, okay! Won't try

to take you anywhere! You can just please yourself. _Au revoir_.”

“Wait!” Harry pleaded, because Louis was really going to leave, and it didn't feel right. “Stay. Please, can you sleep on the floor or something? A man isn't supposed to share a bed with another man, I can't do it any more, I'm sorry, please just stay here with me, I'm sorry-”

Louis cut his frantic apology off. “I'm not sleeping on the floor.”

Harry felt awful, like he was breaking up with Louis – which was ridiculous, they were just friends – no, they were just _workmates_ , that's all. They'd only known each other a few weeks. Still, he didn't want Louis to go. Not one bit. He wanted to make Louis stay.

Harry couldn't do what he wanted to do, though, because if he let Louis stay in his bed he'd want to hug him, and if he hugged him he'd want to kiss him, and if he kissed him...

He'd left it too long though, he should have said _something_ but he'd left it too long, and now Louis had opened the door.

“Can you leave something here with me?” Harry gasped. “I'm going to be all alone.”

Louis paused for a second, then pulled out his wallet. Out of the coin pocket he took out a fine silver chain that had a small glittering pendant hanging from it. He yanked it over Harry's head quite roughly.

Harry picked the pendant up in his hand, gazing at the unfamiliar shape.

“It's a fleur de lis. Look it up,” Louis said, voice flat. “It's a fucking family diamond, so don't you dare lose it. Only take it off for the shower.”

And like that, he was out the door.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Seattle was all grey and bleak and miserable, which probably had much more to do with Louis' mood than the city itself. Part of Louis wanted to give Harry a chance, wait for him, help him. Another part of him reminded himself that he was too good to wait for anyone, and he only ever helped people when there was a collection of free Helmut Lang jackets or Dior brogues waiting on the other end.

What did Harry have to offer, besides ' _no homo_ ' and ' _I'm not gay_ ' and a whole lot of lawbreaking every time they touched? Green eyes that gave too much away, and brown curls that begged for Louis' fingers to be ran through them, that's what Harry had. Louis didn't need that, he didn't need Harry's youthful joie de vivre that made Louis forget that he was wearing thousand-dollar shoes and climb up a tree. Louis didn't need Harry looking at him in a way that had Louis not caring about the four pounds he'd gained, happily eating ice cream or eggs benedict with Harry. Despite being half Louis' age, Harry was the best company Louis had ever enjoyed by at _least_ double - but Louis didn't need anyone's company. He had himself. He was an island, a self-sustaining island.

Harry wasn't even a good fuck, for goodness' sake! Not that Louis had _fucked_ Harry, but he had enough experience to go by - Harry was all nerves and teeth and pounding heart, so urgent and eager to please, so in awe of every movement Louis made. Harry had the least experience of anyone Louis had, starting at not even a kiss. Louis had fucked _porn stars_ , see. It was preposterous to even consider that Harry could be the best he'd ever had. Ridiculous. Louis wouldn't even humour the thought.

Harry was the only person Louis had ever been truly patient with. Louis rarely lost his cool but there was a certain _look_ he could give absolutely anyone in Paris, and they'd instantly apologise profusely, leave the room, and not come back until the problem was fixed. Harry, with his clumsy ignorance and enormous heart and genuine desire to be _good_ , had Louis really trying his best to bite his tongue for as long as he could, because maybe Harry was worth it...

Louis didn't need that, he really didn't need any of it. What he needed was a stiff drink.

Louis had walked out of Harry's hotel room and straight into the first decent bar he saw. Luckily the joint seemed to appeal to a demographic that didn't overlap with _Modern Missionary_ 's audience, nor did the fashion world seem to be thriving in Seattle - he wasn't recognised by anyone.

Louis didn't flirt with any men, not even the bartender. He couldn't even be bothered lifting his eyes to assess the bar's patrons. He reasoned it wasn't loyalty and it certainly wasn't love – Harry was _sixteen_ and very confused and had also kind of hurt Louis (no he hadn't, Louis didn't get hurt, not by anyone), and Louis definitely didn't love Harry. He was just tired and in a strop and that's why he wasn't bothering to find a man for the night.

Christ, he'd given Harry his great-grandmother's Fleur de Lis. _Le cerveau était en option pour moi_ , he hissed at himself, _idiot._ He should have just given Harry a punch in the mouth.

 

A text from Eleanor came around 3am. _I'm so not used to hotel beds. Can't sleep._ Within an hour she was sat by Louis at the bar.

Louis half hoped she'd seen right through them, that she'd say, _I know what's going on with Harry,_ and he could wail to her about the teen with his soft plump lips, his grabby fingers, his wet mouth that tasted like sugar water and toothpaste, his tiny tight asshole, and his ' _I want to hold hands with you, Louis_ ', but Eleanor had no clue, she had no fucking clue.

They just drank together in silence until Eleanor reminded Louis that while she didn't have to be on the MM set tomorrow, Louis did, and he should probably sober up and get to sleep.

Louis flung an arm around her for balance on the short walk home, and he never let go. Eleanor got pulled into Louis' hotel bed, because he couldn't bear to sleep alone, not after Harry's ' _I'm not in love with you._ ' It was all wrong, though. Her hips were too big and her waist was too small and Louis wasn't sure where to put his hands.

“Dude, stop fidgeting. Just put your hand on my tit,” she huffed, clearly tired.

“That's okay?” Louis asked in surprise.

“You're gay, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, resting his hand on her breast. It wasn't unpleasant by any stretch, and it solved the problem of where to put his arm, but it definitely wasn't sexy. “Yeah, I'm gay.”

“Don't sound so sad about it,” Eleanor laughed.

They left the room once the sun was up only a few hours later, Eleanor to go back to her own room for a shower and Louis to head outside in search of good coffee. Deep in argument about whether peplums were still wearable or if they'd gone out (they had, by the way, gone out long ago - despite what Eleanor thought), Louis didn't notice Harry waiting by the elevator.

Harry had noticed Louis. He'd maybe even noticed Louis and Eleanor leaving the same hotel room.

“Hey there Harry, good morning!” Eleanor said cheerily.

“Forgot something,” Harry mumbled, turning around and scampering off to his room, a silver chain glittering around his neck.

\-----

They filmed much earlier in the day this time, but that didn't stop a large crowd from filling the

venue to capacity. Harry didn't mind. He hadn't kissed a man at this venue, so he felt a little less like a fraud on stage.

He'd entered the dressing room which had both Louis and the hair and makeup team in it, and stared at Louis for a second. Louis stared back, both in a silent stalemate, until Harry was pulled over into a flurry of bronzer brushes and hairspray.

After Harry's hair and makeup had been completed, Louis forfeited. He pointed at Harry's outfit for the show and dictated, “Three buttons undone at the top of the shirt, keep it untucked, make sure the ankles of your jeans are over the boots, not inside,” which meant for the first time he wasn't going to physically help Harry get dressed.

Harry did the buttons up all the way to his neck, looking like a total geek in the hopes that Louis would laugh at him and they'd be okay.

Louis had just exhaled quietly and undone the buttons for Harry, his hands dancing like spiders and not once brushing close against Harry's skin like he used to. Harry felt like his heart was being yanked out into the space Louis left between them. He needed Louis' hands on his chest to contain his heart, keep him whole.

Harry just had to find a way to keep himself whole. Pull it together and step out of ' _Arry_ and into _Modern Missionary_ , that's who he had to be for now.

Harry waited until the very last second before he stepped out onstage, not giving himself any time to change his mind. He pulled out the necklace Louis gave him – he didn't care that it was kind of girly - he let it sit over his shirt.

There was no live band for the show in Seattle. Instead, after Harry gave his testimony, reflected on some current affairs, and lead the crowd in prayer, he had to speak with a panel of three girls who were just under Harry's age, still in school.

The final segment went fine for a while and Harry felt he was doing well – Jeremy's satisfied nods behind a large camera were enough confirmation. They had a good conversation about school grades and the pressure to do well, how it's important to remember that God should always be your number one focus, but in doing well in school you _are_ serving God. The audience clapped loudly every time Harry answered a question.

Towards the end they discussed recreation, how much time you should split between church and homework and sports and friends and fun, and then the topic of parties came up.

“If you do decide to go out, a lot of girls these days like to kiss each other at parties. There can be a lot of peer pressure to join in with that – because it's just kissing, and a lot of guys our age like girls who do that. What are you supposed to do in that situation?” one of the girls asked.

Harry felt his eyes go wide in panic before he could stop them. He quickly blinked, trying to keep his face relaxed. He could feel Jeremy's own eyes boring into him from where he was stood in front of the audience. This was one of the questions they'd gone over with him in Austin. He'd been taught _exactly_ how to answer it.

“If a guy only likes you because you kiss a girl in front of him, then he's not the type of guy you want to be with,” wasn't what Harry was supposed to say. Jeremy began slowly circling his hand, silently instructing Harry to _go on_.

Harry took a deep breath, keeping his tone of voice kind and confident. “It can be really tempting to do all sorts of things to be popular in school.”

Jeremy's hand moved faster, urging.

“If you're going to be tempted to do something like that, like kiss another girl, then maybe it's a good idea to stay home from the party in the first place.”

Jeremy threw a hand up in exasperation.

This show was Harry's _job_. Everyone was watching; all his friends at home, his family, his church's entire congregation back in Texas, and a large portion of America – and England, Australia, and a couple of Asian countries, he'd only just found out. God was watching him. Harry had asked to do this, he'd promised a lot of people he could do it well.

Harry gritted his teeth, plastered on a smile, and parroted out what he'd been taught. “It's so important to treat yourself with respect and keep yourself pure. Your body is a temple of God, and He didn't give us lips to kiss a stranger at a party, and to do that alone would be disrespectful and impure. Engaging in homosexual behaviour for attention or popularity isn't worth it – you certainly won't be popular in heaven if that's the life you've lived on earth. You'll feel much better about yourself if you save your body for the man who will one day be your husband.”

“You're so right,” another one of the girls agreed. “Guys never kiss other guys at parties, you're lucky that you haven't got that temptation.”

“Yeah, I'm lucky,” Harry said with a convincing grin.

They ran out of time before the topic of alcohol came up, thank God, because Harry couldn't fake authenticity for a minute longer. More than once now he'd had a drink or two and absolutely nothing bad had happened. That wasn't what he was supposed to say, though.

He wasn't sure which option was worse; if what he had told the girls (and an audience of millions, once the episode aired next week) about kissing someone of the same sex was true, then he was an impure sinner for kissing Louis. If what he'd told the girls was wrong – if it was okay to kiss someone of the same gender - then he'd lied to them. He kept the whole audience trapped in the same web of lies that he'd been raised in.

Louis was alone in the dressing room when Harry reentered, relaxing on the couch that faced away from the door. Apparently he hadn't come out to watch the show being taped. This episode wasn't being aired immediately, but being bulked out with some more casual off-stage stuff and then broadcasted next week, so they'd both have to wait to see it.

Louis turned to see Harry enter, then turned away again, settling back down on the couch. “Nice necklace,” he said. Harry couldn't see Louis' face, but he hoped he could hear a smile.

“Thanks,” Harry said cautiously. “My old best friend gave it to me.”

“Old best friend?”

“I think he used to be my best friend. Then I wouldn't let him stay in my hotel room. So we're not friends any more.”

“Oh,” Louis said remorsefully, turning around properly this time. “Hey, you don't have to let anyone sleep in your bed if you don't want to. You're allowed to have a choice. I'm still your friend, okay? You don't have to let me sleep over to stay friends.”

“I didn't really have a choice,” Harry quickly explained before he could think about what he was saying. “If it was my choice, I would have had you stay.”

“On the floor,” Louis reminded him.

“No. In my bed,” Harry said, and he meant it. “Just... as friends, I mean.”

Louis stood up, hand out for Harry's clothes. “Friends. Right.”

Harry began to unbutton his shirt. “Are you getting the bus with us tonight? Or are you flying in with the rest of crew tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’m flying this afternoon, actually,” Louis explained. “Want to get to there before everyone else.” “You've got the job interview in Vegas.” Harry nodded, remembering.

“It's not an interview, it's just a chat,” Louis said, taking Harry's shirt from him and beginning to hang it up. “I'm seeing them tomorrow morning. You still won't tell anyone, will you? I'm not doing anything wrong, it's just a bit... gauche to set up a new job already.”

“I'll be quiet,” Harry promised, pulling on a t-shirt. Harry hoped Louis trusted that he could keep a secret, because this isn't the only one he had to keep for Louis.

The silence stretched long enough to where it felt awkward, so Harry quickly kept talking as he slipped off the boots, changing into comfier trainers. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “It was kind of weird being in a bed by myself last night. Didn't sleep well.”

“I didn't either,” Louis admitted, zipping a clothes bag over a dress that one of the girls had worn. “Eleanor cracked it at me for fidgeting.”

Harry's stomach dropped like it was suddenly filled with lead. _Eleanor?_ “What do you mean?” he asked.

“In bed, I couldn't sit still -” Louis' face fell when he realised what he was saying. “Oh _merde,_ no, it's not what it sounds like.”

Harry was jealous, he could feel it twisting through his stomach and straining at his sternum. That had to be wrong. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't be jealous. He should be glad that Louis was with a girl, because that's the right way to be, isn't it? Harry and Louis should both end up with girls.

“We didn't do anything,” Louis quickly went on, his face earnest.

 “Nothing?” Harry asked, fearing the answer.

“Nothing at all, I absolutely promise,” Louis said, wringing his hands together. “Just cuddled, as friends.”

“Were you hard?”

“Jesus, 'Arry!”

“Did you have a stiffy?” Harry pressed, cheeks flushing.

“ _No,_ ” Louis said firmly, a little indignant. “I'd just had a bit to drink and I didn't want to sleep alone-”

“You could have asked me,” Harry said sullenly.

“ _Je n'y crois pas à ces conneries_ ,” Louis hissed, and Harry didn't even want to know what that meant, because maybe Louis said the hardest things in French. “You'd just kicked me out of your room,” Louis said pointedly.

“And you go off running to the next person you can find?” Harry asked, hurt. Except he'd hurt himself. It was Harry's own fault that Louis hadn't slept in Harry's bed.

Louis slammed his hand down on the dress rack so hard that the coat hangers rattled. A cardigan slipped off a hanger, and Louis had to be really mad, because he didn't immediately pick it up. “Don't be like that. I'm not punishing you for wanting to sleep alone.”

“I didn't want to sleep alone!” Harry insisted. Why didn't Louis _get_ it?“Whatever,” Louis spat out. “You're allowed to sleep by yourself, I don't care. I'm not going to run off to someone else at the drop of a hat, but I am allowed to share a bed with my friend.”

“She's not your friend! You only just met her! _I'm_ your friend.” Louis didn't look like he believed Harry, though. Harry tugged at the necklace around his neck, showing Louis. “If you'd bothered to come out to watch the show, you'd see I was wearing this necklace in front of everyone. It's a girl's necklace, Louis, people probably thought I looked gay. I didn't care! I wanted to wear it! That proves we're friends, doesn't it?” he asked desperately.

Louis didn't answer. He just picked up the fallen cardigan and hung it back up on the rack. He started wordlessly counting off the clothing items against a list.

“I'll still be on the bus in the morning,” Harry said, unable to bear the silence.“What's your point?” Louis said. He sounded tired.“What if you need a good luck kiss? Before the Pucci meeting?”“Wouldn't know where to get one, would I?” Louis sighed, pushing the rack to the door. “If I was there in the morning, I'd give you one,” Harry said, heart leaping into his throat. Louis quickly looked over at Harry, eyes sharp.

“I would,” Harry insisted.

“If you were there,” Louis said. “Yes."

“But you won't be.” Louis swung the door open and pulled the clothes rack out. He didn't wait for Harry. He just let the door fall shut behind him.

\-----

As soon as Louis got back to the Seattle hotel room, he had to grab his bags and leave again. He'd just pressed the down button at the elevator bank when his phone rang. Jeremy.

“Louiss.” “It's Lou- _ie-”_

Jeremy cut him off. “You haven't left for the airport yet, have you? Harry's flying out with you tonight.”

“ _Quoi?_ ”

“He was a bit slow on set this afternoon, messed up a couple of answers,” Jeremy barked, evidently displeased. “I've had a chat and a pray with him. He says it was nerves. He says did a lot better in LA because he'd checked out CityWalk the night before. Which was with you. I'd like you to take him to Vegas tonight so he's got more time to settle in.”

“Not in my job description,” Louis tried to argue, because he couldn't exactly say, ' _Me and Harry aren't getting along right now._ '

“Come on,” Jeremy encouraged him. “The whole CNTV family will really appreciate you taking care of Harry for us. You'll have fun!”

“There's not much fun you can have with a sixteen-year-old in Vegas.”“Which is why I'll have Linda upgrade you to a novelty suite for the night,” Jeremy coaxed.

Louis could picture it: Harry's eyes wide in amazement at a swimming pool balcony, an indoor bowling alley, a private cinema, a ball pit, whatever ridiculous suite Linda managed to land them.

“All right, I'll take him,” Louis said, fighting a smile. “I'm leaving right now, though.” “He's already in the lobby with his bags.”

Harry kept his headphones in for the whole drive to the airport, a perfect picture of the moody teenager that he wasn't, really. He didn't acknowledge Louis once until the flight took off, when he pulled out his polar fleece blanket, curled into Louis' side, and fell asleep. The weight of Harry's head made Louis' arm go numb, but Louis didn't move him.

On the cab ride from the airport to the hotel, Louis took the front passenger seat. He couldn't handle sitting in the back with Harry, seeing his eyes light up as Las Vegas at night glided past their cab, all neon and sparkle. He was too tired to deal with the way Harry saw everything with new eyes, beautiful and innocent and accepting.

The suite in Las Vegas was enormous. To Louis' delight, Harry's reaction was even more than he had hoped for; Harry almost blasphemed, gasping “Oh my Go - _gosh,_ ” as he dropped his bag in shock. “This is almost as big as my house!” he hollered with glee as he ran off, flinging doors open as he went. The chill between the two of them was forgotten, at least momentarily. “Louis, there's a hot tub out here on the terrace.... Louis! Louis, you've gotta see this, there's a whole buffet of candy. It's all candy. Twix bars! Have you ever had a Twix?” Harry's feet thundered across the suite before Louis had a chance to answer. “Oh my goodness, there's a basketball court here. A half-court! Wow! .... Louis! You won't believe this, there's a frickin' trampoline! ... Oh my Go – sorry – come look, the bathroom's bigger than my bedroom at home!”

The suite had everything... except a second bed. Louis circled it in full to check, before finding Harry. He'd turned on the enormous TV in the lounge and sprawled on the couch in front of it, a large handful of candy from the buffet sitting in his lap.

“Don't get comfortable,” Louis said apologetically. “We'll have to move rooms, there's only one bed here. I don't think there'll be any big suites like this. I'm sorry, but they'll be a nice enough room with two beds. Or just two individual rooms,” he added.

“I like this suite, though,” Harry said slowly. “There's a _basketball court_ , Louis.”

“Neither of us are really going to play basketball, are we? We won't miss it. We've got to move.”

“I could just sleep here,” Harry suggested, indicating the couch he was sat on.

“You don't have to sleep on a couch,” Louis said, impatiently gesturing at him to stand up. “We'll change rooms, come on.”

“What if we didn't?” Harry asked, eyes on the floor. “What if I didn't sleep on the couch, but we still stayed here, with one bed?”

“Why would we do that?” Louis asked gently.

“Maybe this is a sign from god, you know,” Harry said, flicking his eyes up to Louis. “He made me come here early, with you.”

“That was Jeremy,” Louis pointed out – although Louis sort of suspected it had been Harry himself who had convinced Jeremy to put him on the early plane with Louis.

“And now we've been put in a room with one bed,” Harry continued, ignoring him. “Like an act

of providence.”

Louis didn't know that word. “Act of what?”

“Providence, you know. God being caring, God making sure things in the present are right for the future.” Harry explained. “God knows I'll go crazy if I have to watch myself in front of every last person. Maybe he thinks it's okay to relax just around you. Maybe he's saying okay to share a bed with you.”

“Share a bed?” Louis asked, not wanting to get his hopes up. “As friends,” Harry said, nostrils flaring.

“All right,” Louis said. The air between them felt thick again, like someone had put up a barrier and their words couldn't break it down. Still, Louis figured it was better they were sharing an uncomfortable pause together rather than being split up into two separate hotel rooms. “Fine. We can stay.”

“Watch TV with me?” Harry asked, patting next to himself on the couch.

“I've got to hang up my clothes. Yours too, actually,” Louis said, because he had to get away from how Harry was trying to rationalise with himself, get away from how hard Harry was trying, and get far, far away from Harry's sweet pink mouth, drooling a little as he gnawed on a candy bar.

“I can do mine,” Harry offered.

“You don't know how to do it right.” Louis gave a wry smile. “It's fine. Clothes relax me.” He left Harry by the TV.

\-----

Harry didn't even know what was on TV. His attention was all on Louis, though there wasn't much to him from where Harry was. Just some rustling of fabric, clicking of coat hangers, and soft footsteps pattering about the bedroom. Harry's whole body was itching – it wasn't right, it wasn't right that Louis was doing things without Harry in the room with him. Surely it should feel right, keeping his distance, but, honestly – it felt so wrong.

The movement finally stilled, and Harry then heard the soft thud of Louis flopping onto the bed.

He turned off the TV and tiptoed into the bedroom. Louis was still fully dressed and laying on his stomach, his face buried in a pillow.

Harry tiptoed closer, placing a hand on Louis' ankle. “You tired?”“Mm-hm,” came Louis' reply, muffled into the pillow.“Its not even 9 o'clock yet, you can't go to sleep now.”“Late night last night,” Louis said, burying his face deeper. “ _Je suis trop fatigué,_ I want to sleep.”

“All right.” Harry eased one of Louis' shoes off, then the other. Louis wasn't wearing socks, and he wiggled his now-free toes in gratitude. For feet, they were quite cute.

“Merci,” Louis said.“Come on then sleepy, roll over,” Harry instructed.

Louis obeyed, turning around without opening his eyes. Harry tried not to laugh at how Louis was almost childlike in his drowsiness. Heart beating fast, he undid Louis' pants and pulled them off, folding them at the end of the bed.

“Better?” Harry almost reached out a hand to give Louis's arm a stroke. Almost.

“Oui, merci,” Louis said slowly, curling his thighs up to the side.

He looked quite nice, lying on the bed in his underpants and t-shirt. His tired eyes had remained shut, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His legs looked strong, all tanned and covered in pale hair, his thighs just a little plump – the kind of plump you wanted to bury your face in.

 _Would_ want to, that is. Only if you liked boys.

Louis' white t-shirt had ridden up a little, showing off Louis' teeny-tiny belly that hadn't been there when he'd first come to America. And, oh, shit, shit, _shit._ Maybe Harry did like boys, some boys, one boy in particular, because just below Louis' little belly his underwear was snug around what Harry couldn't ignore; Louis' _penis_. Harry _knew_ Louis' penis, he'd grabbed it and licked it and pressed himself up against it and _he wanted to do it all again_ , wanted to watch it grow big, wanted to see it come all over that sweet soft stomach.

Harry gave his own stomach a punch, trying to still the stirring in his groin.

Harry wasn't tired at all yet, but he took off his own clothes until he was only in his underwear and the silver fleur de lis necklace.

Louis opened his eyes – probably alarmed at the sound of clothes being thrown on the floor rather than folded neatly and placed on a shelf – but when he saw Harry his mouth fell open a little and he didn't say a thing.

“I like the way you look at me,” Harry commented shyly, twisting his fingers and not daring to get into the bed too. “Like... I don't know. Like I'm something good.”

“Tu es _très_ bien, 'Arry,” Louis said. “Look at you. Fucking necklace looks perfect on you. You should keep it.”

“Shh.” Harry blushed. “You said it's your family's. I'm just borrowing it.”“It's yours,” Louis insisted.“You're too tired, you don't know what you're saying,” Harry dismissed.“Can I say you should get into bed with me, then?” Louis wasn't daring to smile.

Harry had to buy himself time, he still wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. “I kind of wanted to try out the hot tub.” Louis' face fell a little, so Harry quickly added, “It's just that it's still really early!”

“Okay,” Louis said, shutting his eyes again.

“I won't be long,” Harry decided. “Just a quick dip and then I'll dry off and climb into bed. Next to you. I promise.”

“It doesn't matter,” Louis said, yanking the covers out and getting underneath. “You can do what you wont. I won't be mad.”

Harry made to leave the room, but paused in the doorway, facing back. “Louis.”“Oui?” Louis said, eyes fluttering open once more.“I feel like no one really knows me.”“Oh.” Even though Louis must have been really tired he sat up a bit, looking at Harry attentively.

“I spoke to my dad on the phone before. I told him about meeting Little Mix. He kept asking me if I thought they were pretty, stuff like that... It's like I don't know the right things to say about girls.” Harry shrugged helplessly.

Louis shrugged too.

“You're the only person who I don't have to say the right thing around,” Harry explained to Louis. “I can say anything around you, I don't have to watch myself... I don't have to fake it. I think I'm doing okay faking it around everyone else. It's just... it sucks.”

“It must suck a lot.” Louis laughed sadly. “It's okay, though. Just keep taking it day by day.”

“I'm sorry. About all the dumb stuff I said.” Harry wanted to jump into the bed beside Louis, wanted Louis to get out and press him against the wall, anything to just feel Louis' warm chest and cold hands because that's where everything felt right. Harry felt like he'd forgotten how to make that happen, though.

“It's okay, mon petit,” Louis said sleepily, shuffling back down into the bed. “Go enjoy the hot tub.”

If he was still calling Harry _mon petit_ , then it wasn't all bad.

\-----

True to his word, Harry did come back to the bedroom. Louis heard him come in and pretended to still be asleep, peeking through almost-shut eyes. Harry's curls were damp from rinsing off after the hot tub, the blue Prada sweater on over his chest, his legs bare save for underpants and tube socks.

“Louis, wake up,” Harry said, coming over to shake Louis' shoulder.

“Do you have to wake me up every morning?” Louis joked.“I'm sorry,” Harry said. “It's not morning yet, though. It's only eleven pm.” Louis sat up. “Bonsoir.”

Harry seemed to pause for just a minute, then unceremoniously pulled Louis out of the bed by his arm, ripping him from the warm comfort of the duvet. He stumbled backwards, pulling Louis with him, until Harry was against the wall with Louis a foot in front of him. Harry kept his grip on Louis.

“Do you want me?” Harry blurted out.

“Pardon?” Louis asked, bemused.

“Do you want me?” Harry repeated. “Because I've been taught that if you do stuff with someone before you're married to them then you're just used goods, you're impure, and no one wants you. But that's not true, is it? If I'm impure and you still want me, then it can't be true.”

Louis had to laugh. “You're the most pure person I know, Harry.”Harry's hand tightened around Louis' forearm, so tight he might leave a bruise.

“Yes, I want you,” Louis admitted. Butterflies began swirling in his stomach, which was ridiculous. He didn't get worked up by feelings like that, he didn't care – it must be hunger.

“Only because you think I'm pure?” Harry asked, eyes open and large with concern.

“ _Non_ , not because of that at all,” Louis said softly, taking a step in closer to Harry. “I want you because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, since the very day I met you, and it's been a joy getting to know you. I don't care what you've done.”

“I kissed a girl, remember?” Harry urged, his hand tugging at Louis' arm. “I kissed someone else, I've been used by someone else.”

“You're not _used_ , Harry,” Louis admonished. “And I don't care. I don't care if you've kissed someone else. I don't care if you rob a fucking bank. I'll still want you.”

“Good. Good,” Harry said, his chest rising with hard breaths.

It killed Louis to say it, but this was about more than just Louis, this was about Harry's _worth_ , so Louis went on.

“I'm not the only person who'll want you, though,” Louis said. Harry opened his mouth, but Louis spoke over him. “No, listen to me. There's a lot of people who won't care that you've kissed a girl, or that you've done things with me too. Plenty of boys your own age – even girls your own age. You don't have to, like - _te contenter de moins_ , how do you say it...” Louis sighed, moving his free arm to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry's head automatically fell, his chin rubbing against Louis' hand until Louis lifted it, caressing Harry's cheek with his thumb. “Don't think I'm all you'll get,” Louis said softly. “You've got options, you've got choices. A lot of people will really love you for you.”

“Don't want 'em,” Harry mumbled. He dropped Louis' arm and grabbed his waist instead, pulling him in close.

Louis tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against Harry's to slow him. “You don't have to do this, okay? I'm not mad at you, you don't have to share a bed with me or anything, we'll still be friends.”

“Everything's so messed up and you're the only one who _knows_ that it's messed up,” Harry said, impassioned. “I need you on my side.”

“I'm on your side,” Louis insisted. “You don't need to do anything to keep me there.”

“I know that,” Harry said firmly. “I don't care about what I need to do right now, I'm going to do what I want to do.”

Harry pushed his head forward and his lips met Louis'. He stopped there for a second, letting out a high whine at the contact, before they both began to move their lips. Harry's mouth tasted wet and sweet and perfect, his hands clinging on to Louis' sides.

Harry pulled harder and Louis stepped in, pinning Harry against the wall. He grabbed Harry's curls in both hands, keeping him close as he licked into Harry's mouth with his tongue, moaning through it. Harry felt so small underneath him, framed by Louis' own body. Louis felt powerful in that moment, like he could cover Harry completely, protect him from anything.

Harry began pressing his hips against Louis. Louis could feel Harry's erection grinding against the top of his thigh.

“Fuck, Harry,” he breathed. “Is it okay?” Harry asked.

“Yes, of course it is,” Louis said, kissing Harry more, encouraging him to keep moving. Louis kept his hips firmly in place, standing strong so Harry could buck up against him. Harry moved into it with abandon, faster and faster, his hands yanking at Louis' shirt until Louis pulled it right off, then Harry's blue sweater came off to, their bare chests pressed against each other, stomachs moving in tandem as they both breathed heavily.

The kiss heated up, Louis knotting his fingers through Harry's hair as they both gasped into each other. It had only been about twenty-four hours since they'd last kissed, but Louis realised he'd been craving Harry something awful, and nothing had ever felt better than finally having his mouth on Harry's.

“Mm _\- mm!_ ” Harry cried franticly, muffled against Louis' mouth. He clawed at Louis' chest, trying to push him away but it was too late; Harry's whole body gave three strong twitches as came in his underwear, moaning, fingernails digging into Louis' hips.

After he got his breath back, Harry mumbled, “I ruined the moment, sorry.”

“Mon petit, no!” Louis cried out. He hoisted Harry up by his behind, lifting him off the ground. Harry wrapped his legs around Louis, hanging off like a koala. “You didn't ruin anything,” Louis reassured him.

“Yeah, I did,” Harry groaned into Louis' neck. “Happens so fast. It's embarrassing.”

Louis turned them around and took a few steps back to the bed, throwing Harry down onto it and kneeling in front of where the boy lay. Harry was on his back in the mess of bedsheets, biting his lip, chest flushed with the fleur de lis resting on it, a wet spot spreading through his white underwear.

“It's just because you're new to these things. It doesn't matter to me, you're perfect,” Louis insisted. He lay a hesitant hand on Harry's hip. “May I...?” Harry nodded and Louis dropped his head, wrapping his mouth over the fabric that covered Harry's still mostly-hard cock. Now very sensitive, Harry gasped, his hips jerking. Louis sucked, drawing Harry's come out through the cotton so he could taste it. _Perfect_.

“There's so much I want to do to you,” Louis groaned, gripping Harry's hipbone and looking up at him.

“You can, you know,” Harry said, looking absolutely angelic, all bitten lips and messy hair and just ever so slightly, a tiny little bit wrecked from coming in his pants. “You can do it all.”

“Only when you're ready,” Louis promised. Harry nodded happily, sitting up.

Louis was wide awake now. He could feel a wild smile crossing his face, and around Harry, he didn't care. They were in _Vegas_ , in a ridiculous suite way up in the sky.

“Have you tried the trampoline yet?” Louis ventured. “No,” Harry said slowly, beginning to smile too.

“Oh, let's!” Louis cried out, pulling Harry off the bed and spinning him towards where he'd put Harry's clothes away. “Change your pants and let's jump!”

“You want to go on a trampoline?” Harry confirmed. “You, Louis Tomlinson?” “Oui!”

“I had to convince you to climb a _tree,_ remember?” Harry said, slipping out of his wet underpants. “Didn't think you were so keen on playing around.”

“Shh,” Louis said wryly, because if Harry had a point, Louis wouldn't admit it. Maybe Harry had changed Louis, just a tiny little bit – but Louis had changed Harry more, because Harry styled his hair now and hadn't worn a polo shirt in three weeks - and, well, he knew how to suck dick now.

“Your hair will get messed up,” Harry cautioned, pulling on clean grey pair. “No one will see.”“Except me. I get to see,” Harry said proudly.

The trampoline was a large spring-free one, circled in a mesh cage. Louis felt a little self-conscious – especially as they were both only in their underwear. He tried out a few tentative jumps on the spot, until Harry double-bounced him and he was flung into the mesh cage, ricocheting off and landing at Harry's feet in a tangle of limbs.

“Play nice, _gamin_.” Louis shoved Harry's legs so they slipped out from under him, and he fell down too. Harry stayed there on his back, turning his head to grin at Louis, showing off his dimple.

“Are you nervous about the meeting tomorrow?” he asked.

“Non.” Louis shook his head. “They wouldn't bother flying out to Vegas if they didn't really want me. I don't think I have to impress them.”

“You'd really move to Italy?” Harry asked, rolling over to face Louis properly. “Maybe, for a year or two.” Louis shrugged. “I mean, why not?”“If you go, will you take me with you?”

Louis had to laugh, because Harry kept asking about that. “It's a big 'if',” he reminded Harry. “There's a lot of jobs I could get after this one. Anyway, if you want to travel so bad, you can, you don't need me. You'll have plenty of money after Modern Missionary. You could go anywhere you wanted. Anywhere!”

“I don't want to go anywhere,” Harry said quietly. “Oh?”“No,” Harry said, pushing tongue in his cheek.

Louis leapt up, jumping up and down right next to Harry so his body flopped about on the shaking trampoline. “Want to come with me, do you?” he cried out as he jumped, delighted, because he didn't want to not-acknowledge it any more.

Harry tried to kick Louis from where he was laying, but Louis was too quick, jumping over to the other side of the trampoline.

“Don't care where we're off to, as long as we're together?” Louis hollered.

“Exactly,” Harry said, embarrassed, as his body was bounced around.

“Won't let me get on a plane and leave the country without your stupid curly head in the seat next to me, then?” Louis squealed, jumping on the spot with absolute glee. “Falling asleep on my arm and drooling all over my sleeve?!”

Harry scrambled up and started jumping too, concentration on his face as he tried to double- bounce Louis again. “You wouldn't go without me anyway. You need me!”

“'Course I do,” Louis said, and _he_ double bounced Harry, who fell back down. “You're my partner in crime.” He crashed down by Harry, both catching their breath.

It felt crazy, because Louis had never made plans with anyone – especially not while he bounced on trampoline.

Maybe Louis needed a little crazy, though. Maybe Harry did too.

\-----

After some more enthusiastic jumping, a few backflips, and many gratuitous collisions, they'd collapsed into a sweaty pile, panting.

Louis had pushed Harry in the bathroom, which was giant. It had pulsing disco lights and a thousand tiny jets that sprayed water in time to electronic music. Louis looked very good under pulsing disco lights.

Harry had watched Louis open one of his fancy bottles and squirt out a decent amount of scrub, which he spread between his hands as he crossed the room to Harry. He gently massaged it into Harry's crotch, which felt kind of strange and kind of very, very nice, instantly giving Harry an erection.

“It'll help your hair to grow out,” Louis explained. “Keep it from itching.” “Then you'll shave me again, yeah?”“Cheeky,” Louis said, looking like he was trying to suppress a smile.

Louis had turned the water off and wrapped them both up in towels, holding Harry's hand and kissing each clean fingertip one by one, before taking him to the bed. They lay there, both aware of the late hour but neither of them wanting to sleep just yet.

Harry snuck a hand up Louis' towel, resting on his thigh. “Promise I can come with you to Italy, or back to Paris, or to New York City, wherever you end up?” he asked.

“You don't have to decide that now,” Louis said gently, crooking his leg up a little to rub into Harry's hand. Harry squeezed Louis' thigh muscle a little and Louis' eyelids fluttered, his lips pursing for a second. After a beat he was able to compose himself, and he continued. “You want to travel so much, soon you'll have the money to do anything. You should have a proper think about where you want to go. You could backpack around Thailand, volunteer in India, bungee jump in New Zealand. You don't want to get stuck in a boring city with me.”

“Nothing's boring with you,” Harry said thoughtfully, his hand gliding over Louis' skin. It made his own stomach flutter.

“You want to see the world, Harry. Don't forget that.”

“We can take holidays together,” Harry said brightly. “Nip off to Jamaica for some sunshine and ocean. Over to England for a music festival. Or I'll go by myself if you can't come. I'll always come back to you.”

“You don't have to,” Louis said gently. “You've got options, remember.”“ _Ta gueule,_ ” Harry interrupted him, unable to keep the smile off his face.“'Arry, don't say that!” Louis cried out. He gave Harry's arm a gentle slap, but he was laughing.

“That's _rude_ , to say it like that.”“You say it all the time,” Harry said, giving Louis' thigh a soft pinch. “Ow! I do not.”

“Do too,” Harry said, pushing Louis onto his back and slinging a leg over to straddle his hips. Harry's towel fell away from his own hips, but he didn't didn't pull it back over himself. No point, really. There was no hiding it. He was hard.

Harry trailed his fingers up Louis' chest. Louis gasped when Harry's fingertips found his nipples, so Harry lingered there, stroking and pushing.

“'Arry,” Louis whimpered softly, his legs twitching underneath Harry.“Shh,” Harry said. “Told you I'd give you a kiss for luck, for the interview tomorrow.” “I feel lucky already,” Louis said.Harry shrank back. “You don't want a kiss?”

“No, I do, I do!” Louis said, pulling Harry down by the back of his head and giving each of his cheeks a firm kiss. “I just meant - look what I've got. Cutest little boy in all of America – no, all of the world – sitting naked in my lap. And my lap is the only lap you've ever sat in like this. Do you have any idea how lucky that makes me feel?”

“No,” Harry mumbled into Louis' neck, shy. “I mean, I don't know.”

“Really fucking lucky!” Louis insisted.

“Don't swear,” Harry said, still hiding his face. The skin on Louis' neck was so nice, Harry had to plant a kiss there. And another. “I'm lucky that I've got you too, you know. It's a blessing.” Harry stopped for a second, thinking about what he'd just said. “It _is_ a blessing.” He sat up straight, amazed. “I'd be a lot more homesick if I didn't have you with me, you're such good company. I'd be so bored if I didn't get to spend my free time with you.”

“ _Merci beaucoup!_ ” Louis hummed happily, giving the top of Harry's knee an appreciative squeeze.

“You're a blessing!” Harry insisted. “And blessings come from God. You're a gift from God.”

Louis shut his eyes for a second and his lips curled up, dismissing Harry like he didn't believe him.

“It's true,” Harry insisted, pinching one of Louis' nipples just to make him pay attention.

“Ow!” Louis said, but he sounded delighted.

“They say God works in mysterious ways,” Harry said.

“Well, this is a bloody mystery,” Louis said. “Las Vegas suite with a sixteen year old? I definitely didn't see it coming.”

“I didn't see you coming either,” Harry said softly, leaning down to kiss Louis properly.“I'd like to see you coming,” Louis teased. Harry could feel Louis' smile curving against his lips.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked.

“ _Oui,_ ” Louis said, and in one swift movement he pushed Harry over so Harry was on his back and Louis was crouched at the side of his legs, pulling off his underwear. “Want to bury my face in that nice little ass of yours and lick at you 'til you're crying.”

Which, gosh, was quite a lot to hear – but Harry wanted it, he nodded wildly, because he wanted it a lot.

\-----

Harry's phone rang where it lay by them on bed. Louis pulled back a moment, Harry's legs sliding up to rest on his shoulders. Having lost Louis' tongue, Harry whimpered in protest, barely audible over the ringing phone. Louis glanced the lit-up screen.

“Harry,” he said, swallowing, “Why've you got 'BBC Radio One' saved in your phone?”

“Oh _merde!_ ” Harry yelped, and if Louis didn't have panic rising in him, he would have loved hearing Harry swear in French. “I've got a radio interview!” Harry explained. “I completely forgot!”

“At three in the morning?!”“Time difference!” Harry said, waving his hands, panicking worse than Louis was.

“Answer it, quick,” Louis said, hoping he didn't sound too frantic. “You'll be fine _mon petit_ , you're fine.” He shoved the phone into Harry's hand.

“Hi,” Harry answered. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I'm great, you? ... Already? No, it's fine - I'm ready. Okay. Thanks.” He held his hand over the microphone and whispered to Louis, “They're just finishing playing a song. Then we start.”

“You good?” Louis checked. “Take a second to breathe.” Harry nodded. “I'm fine. It'll be easy.”

Harry looked kind of absurd; lying there on his back bare naked, knees spread and hooked over Louis' shoulders, cock lying full and pink in a tiny pool of precome on his stomach. His hand was gripping his phone tight, pressed right up to his ear. He looked kind of absurd, and kind of delicious.

“I haven't finished you off,” Louis said quietly, pressing a trail of kisses onto the inside of Harry's thigh. In his peripheral vision he saw Harry's cock twitch.

“No, you haven't...” Harry said quietly, still covering the receiver.

“Could finish you off later,” Louis suggested, turning to the other thigh and nibbling a little. “Could finish you off now.”

“Now?” Harry gasped, eyes big as he considered it. “Wow... Yes, now, now!” “Can you be quiet?” Louis murmured, sinking back down low.“Yes.”“Can you concentrate on the interview?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Harry said. The radio host must have started talking on the other end of the line, because Harry took his hand off and spoke in a voice that hopefully only Louis could tell was a little bit faster than normal. “Yes, I'm here, hi. How are you?” Harry's free hand fumbled, patting at Louis until he found enough hair to grab on to, guiding Louis' mouth back.

Louis ran his tongue lightly by the inside of Harry's ass cheek, testing the waters on an area that wasn't too sensitive. Harry's hand tightened slightly on Louis' hair, but he didn't otherwise react.

When Harry spoke again, Louis moved in closer to Harry's hole, resulting in Harry saying, “Oh, I'm - I'm _really good,_ thanks,” with far too much emphasis.

Louis moved out wider again. His tongue tickled just slightly where Harry's soft, dark hair was starting to grow back. He couldn't help but to gently sink his teeth into the flesh of Harry's ass. Harry's thighs tensed up either side of Louis, but he stayed quiet.

“Good boy,” Louis whispered just loud enough for Harry to hear. “ _Mon bon, bon garçon._ ” He slid his wet lips back to the middle of Harry's ass, pressing a firm kiss right on his tight hole, feeling it twitch under his lips.

“I'm in Las Vegas,” Harry said into the phone, voice deliberately steady. “Yeah, it's like three am here.”

He sounded _very_ happy for a guy who had to be awake at 3am.

“Yes, we'll be touring all over America for the next few months... Ooh, that's a good one – I know I'm really looking forward to going back to New York City. But, in the complete opposite, I'm interested to see some of the really small towns in the South, too.”

Louis fluttered his tongue against Harry's rim, just lightly. At first it was clenched tight under his tongue, but then Harry started to relax a little – maybe concentrating on the interview had him forgetting his anxieties, because he was loosening up. Louis narrowed his tongue and licked more firmly – not trying to push in, just enjoying the way Harry's hole now had a little give to it.

“I do miss Texas a bit, but mostly I just miss my family and my friends,” Harry was saying, his hand still clinging to Louis' hair as Louis bobbed his head, licking long, wet stripes across his rim, the rippled skin tasting clean, like flesh and very faintly like metal.

Louis crooked his nose up to graze Harry's balls and breathed in deeply, wanting to experience the most intimate parts of Harry, the parts Louis was the only one to have ever touched.

“My faith is what keeps me going, absolutely,” Harry was saying. “I mean, besides having good people in my life. The whole Modern Missionary team is great, they help too. But my faith is very important.”

Louis trailed a line of wet kisses across one of Harry's soft cheeks. He lifted his head slightly to peer at Harry for a second, who'd moved his hand off Louis' head and to his mouth, where he was tugging at his lower lip, rolling it in his finger and thumb in between the sentences he spoke. His pupils had dilated, his cheeks were rosy.

“I'm sure you're not used to people talking about Christian faith on your radio show, but that's why Modern Missionary is being made, to put young Christians back in the spotlight. Contrary to what some people think, we're not a dying breed.”

Louis ran his hands over Harry's ass, squeezing it gently at first, then when Harry was obediently quiet, Louis squeezed it as hard as he could. His fingers pressed into Harry's flesh, so soft and pale with a very faint smattering of dark hair.

“There's so many bad influences in the public eye today – no, I won't name names, that's wouldn't be nice!”

“Your ass is like a fucking peach,” Louis growled in awe, ducking his head back down to lap right at Harry's hole.

“I just think it's important for the public to get the perspective of a young Christian pea – person.” Louis giggled, burying his mouth right against Harry's ass to muffle the sound. Harry had almost said _peach_.

Louis knew he shouldn't push it, but he licked all the way up, across Harry's balls and along his dick. Harry's belly shook for a second, but he didn't make a peep. “Good boy,” Louis whispered, even quieter now his face was a little closer to the receiver.

Louis began to circle his wet tongue over the head of Harry's cock. Harry's skin was smooth and shiny there, firm and pink, tasting of precome and a little bitter from Louis' body scrub. There's nothing Louis liked better than when Harry was marked by Louis in some way – whether it was the blue Prada sweater, a spritz of Chanel Allure on his neck, or his crotch smelling like Louis' bath products, Louis loved it. It made him feel like Harry was his.

“Well, I'm no travel expert,” Harry was laughing a little nervously down the phone, wiggling his hips up until they almost left the bed, encouraging Louis. “But I'm getting used to hotels pretty - pretty quickly. I think it would have been harder thirty years ago, but it's easy these days. If I want to see my family, I just pull out my phone and face-time them... Nah, hotel rooms aren't _too_ boring.... I do miss my creature comforts, but I can make my own fun. We love to build blanket forts in the-” Harry inhaled sharply, hitting his palm against his forehead. “I mean - no, no - I mean just by myself, I build blanket forts by myself... No, I do not bring anyone back to my hotel rooms... of course I don't!”

Louis pulled back, ducking under one of Harry's legs to sit up properly. Harry's eyes were wide with panic – his fast save hadn't exactly been smooth. He sat up too, shaking his head in silent apology.

 _Shit,_ Louis sighed internally, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand.

Harry's hand reached for Louis', holding it tight as he finished off the interview. “No, thank you! That's right, in England it's on every Thursday at 8pm, and if you ever miss an episode there'll be catch-ups on the CNTV website. You have a great day too! ... Haha, yes, I will be going back to bed now... God bless you, and all your listeners.”

Harry hung up the phone and stared at it in horror for a second before he tossed it away. It

clattered out into the hallway. “That last bit was _awful,_ ” he said in a hushed voice. “I'm so sorry.”

“You were fine.” Louis wrapped his arms around Harry, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“ _We_ build blanket forts?” Harry mimicked himself. “I'm an idiot.”

“It's blanket forts, not lines of coke. No one's going to care,” Louis said, stroking Harry's arm. Harry didn't seem to be comforted. “I shouldn't have distracted you. I'm sorry.”

“I said you could. It's my fault too.”

“We won't try that again,” Louis promised.

“Or... we could do it again. And I'll get better at it,” Harry said, green eyes flashing bright.

“You're terrible,” Louis scolded, tugging at Harry's hips to get him to shuffle down the bed again.

“I am not,” Harry argued.

“No, you're not at all,” Louis agreed, breathing right up against Harry's cock. “You're so good. You're the best and you're perfect and you're _mine_. Can I suck you?”

“You mean my – my thing? A proper blowjob?” Harry asked, face lit up.“A proper, real-life blowjob. Right here, on your very own dick,” Louis teased. “Mm-hm.” Harry nodded, lips pressed together in excitement.

Louis lifted Harry's cock with one hand and wrapped his mouth around it. He sucked and slowly increased the pressure as his lips slid down, up, and down again, getting Harry nice and wet and slick.

Harry's hushed, “Oh, man,” only reminded Louis that this was Harry's very first blowjob. Louis was first person who'd ever tasted him here – and if he played his cards right, he might be the last.

Louis pushed his tongue up against Harry, feeling Harry's small vein pulse against him as he sucked. He rocked his head back and forth, nodding slightly, pulling Harry deeper into his pleasure.

Louis consciously relaxed his throat as he pushed himself through it; it had been a good long month or so since he'd properly sucked a dick, and Harry was _big_ , but Louis was determined. The head of Harry's cock nudged at the opening of Louis' throat, and it made him a little nervous – which was ridiculous, he had this. He pushed his head in down and Harry slid right in, of course he did. Just like he was made specifically to fit with Louis.

Louis reached a hand out, finding Harry's arm and tugging it down until he got Harry's hand on his neck so Harry could feel his own dick pushing big at the top of Louis' throat. Louis' throat hurt a little, more so with the added pressure from Harry's hand, but it was all worth it when Harry gasped, “Oh god, oh god, oh g – I mean _wow_ , oh wow, oh wow.”

Louis lifted his head up carefully, Harry's cock dragging through his tight throat until the head popped out of Louis' throat completely and rested on his tongue. Louis gave another few sucks, slurping softly, flicking his tongue on the underside of Harry's glans. Harry's hands fell to his own belly, his fingers digging in a little.

“Oh my gosh,” Harry panted. “You're really good at this, Louis.” Like Louis didn't fucking know it, but it was nice to hear - particularly from Harry.

Louis let his mouth fall a little slack, holding Harry's cock in his hand again so he could pull up to look right at Harry. The tip of Harry's cock rested on Louis' lips as he moved his head a little, sliding his wet lips over him. A bead of precome pulsed out of Harry's little slit and Louis just kept rubbing his loose lips over Harry.

He pulled off completely to lick at his lips while he looked at Harry, then he dipped his head back down again, his own eyes still staring straight at Harry's green ones.

Harry looked right back, eyes sparkling as he completely revered the sight of Louis' lips wrapped around his cock, Louis' jaw forced open wide.

A whimper escaped from Harry's lips, barely audible; “Oh my god.”

Harry bucked his hips up, pressing himself further back into Louis' mouth. He then pulled back, digging his ass down into bed, and thrust up again, pushing himself through Louis' lips.

That wasn't exactly good blowjob etiquette; Louis had roughly tapped more than one French model in the balls for being so rude as to fuck his mouth without permission – but this was _Harry_ , it was Harry lying thick and fat and heavy on Louis' tongue, Harry's precome dripping down the back of Louis' throat, Harry biting his own lower lip and letting his eyes roll back into his head – and it was Louis that had him in that state. It was Harry that had Louis' jaw starting to ache, his throat feeling sore each time he swallowed, Harry's hands gripping his own belly right in front of Louis' eyes.

Harry could do anything he wanted, fucking _anything_. Louis would let him.

Louis stretched his neck out a little, so the next time Harry thrust up he didn't hit the top of Louis' throat but just pushed right through, sliding down inside his throat again. Louis wanted to blow Harry's mind, wanted to make Harry see stars, wanted to give Harry everything he deserved. He swallowed around Harry's dick, pushing himself down so far that his nose was pressed against Harry's pelvis.

“Jesus fucking christ, Louis,” Harry let out in a hoarse voice that wasn't quite his own. Louis paused for a second, waiting for Harry's speedy repentance, but he didn't seem to care that he'd sworn - or blasphemed. He just slid his hands off his stomach and found the sides of Louis' head, lightly placing his hands on Louis' cheeks as he continued to push his hips up and down.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Harry said, voice back to normal, if a little shrill. His head fell back on the pillows, his whole back arching right up off the bed. “Louis,” he pleaded. “Can I come in your mouth, Louis?”

Louis had never quite heard his name like that before. The French glided through it quickly and easily, the Americans nasaled out something more like “Lewis”, the Italians jerked it out into two beats. Harry's lips, however, coaxed out the two syllables gently. Harry seemed to get lost in the 'oo' sound for a second before gliding up the 'ie', his voice like sunshine and honey and all things good.

Louis realised he was fucked, it was done, let him sign his name over, because he'd do absolutely anything for this young boy who said his name like that.

“Please, please, _please!_ ” Harry gasped fervently, his hand tapping at the side of Louis' head in urgency. Louis realised he hadn't answered.

Louis realised that Harry had been holding back from coming, _waiting for permission_.

Louis hummed his consent around Harry's cock, the vibration of the sound feeling good against his sore throat, wrapped snug around Harry's thick dick. Harry gave a few more very hard thrusts before letting out a very loud “Aah, _aahh!_ ” and his cock twitched in Louis' mouth, jetting warm, wet, thick come right down Louis' throat.

When Harry had stopped shaking, Louis eased his mouth off, Harry's cock falling back onto his stomach with a faint wet plop. Harry's hands grabbed at Louis, pulling him up the bed for a cuddle.

“Oh my _gosh_ , Louis,” Harry said, staring into Louis' eyes. “Oui mon petit?” Louis said, a little smug.

“I like getting blowjobs from you just as much as I like doing them to you,” Harry said with certainty. “I like them a lot.”

“Good,” Louis said firmly. “You can have as many as you want.”

“I think I want other stuff, too,” Harry whispered shyly. “Like, I really really want to do it. _It._ But I don't know if I'm ready just yet.”

“It's fine,” Louis said, stroking Harry's head. “There's no rush.” “Four months of tour,” Harry grinned slyly.

It truly was fine, absolutely fine, because Louis didn't know if he was quite ready either. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready for Harry's virgin hole, impossibly tight. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready to look down at Harry folded beneath him while he thrust deep into his ass. There's no way a man could be ready for how destroyed Harry would look once he was stuffed full of a cock, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing in this world that could prepare Louis for coming hard, bottomed out deep inside Harry's ass.

 


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey, Louis?” Harry asked, over breakfast inside their biggest blanket fort yet.

“Mm-hm?” Louis responded through a mouth of Lucky Charms. Harry couldn't believe Louis had never tried them before – he'd moaned in ecstasy and thrown the box out of the fort, " _Why do you make me eat these things, 'Arry? Don't even tell me how much sugar is in these!_ " before starting on his second bowl.

“Can I ask you something?”“Of course.” Louis' voice was a little hoarse, but it didn't seem to be in discouragement.

Harry chewed on his lip, daring himself to say the question. “Facials?” he managed very quietly. He thought he could feel himself blushing a little.

“ _Quoi_? Speak up _mon petit_ ,” Louis encouraged, smiling over his bowl of cereal, curious.

“What's a facial?” Harry repeated, louder this time.

“Like...?”

“I saw it online.” Harry could _definitely_ feel himself blushing. “Same website that... you know... the video of you was on.”

“Ah.” Louis looked away, a little embarrassed himself.“So what is it?” Harry asked, kneeling up. “What's a facial?”

“Well, it's...” Louis pondered it for a split-second and then started laughing so hard he had to put his bowl down on the floor.

“What's so funny?” Harry protested. “I don't know what it is, tell me!”“Give it a rest!” Louis grinned, shaking with laughter. “You do too know! You've had one!” “I have _not!_ ” Harry cried out in surprise... Had he?

Louis calmed himself down, resting a hand on his stomach to still his laughter. “It's when somebody comes on your face, 'Arry,” he said sheepishly, mouth tight as it fought off a huge grin. His voice was even raspier after laughing.

“Oh,” Harry said slowly. “ _Oh_.”Louis started laughing again. “You got a facial in LA, you got a facial in L-AAA!” he huskily sung.

“I'll give you a facial!” Harry threatened, tackling Louis down to the ground. The half-full bowl of cereal got tipped over, spilling milk on the floor where they were play-wrestling. It was cold and wet and soaking into the knee of Harry's pants and Harry didn't care, because Louis was kneading at his thighs and digging his prickly chin into Harry's neck, trying to trap him in close.

 “Oh really?” Louis said, his hands coming to tickle Harry's sides. “Reckon you've got good enough aim for that?”

“Probably not!” Harry squealed with laughter, trying to get out of his grip. “Might get it in your hair!”

“Not my hair! You wouldn't _dare_.” Louis pulled his hands back, surrendering in mock-fear.

“Would too. I'm not scared of you.” Harry kissed Louis, who tasted like Lucky Charms, all sweet and milky. The second round of their play-wrestling began and someone's legs got too tangled in a hanging sheet and the whole blanket fort fell down on top of them.

Louis leant up a bit, propping the sheet up so he could look down at Harry. “We've made a right mess,” he admitted, but he was smiling. “Bedsheets and cereal all over the dining room floor.”

“I like it,” Harry declared. “My parents would never let me do this at home, not even if I cleaned it up right away. I feel like I get to do whatever I want with you.”

“Whatever you want,” Louis assured him.

Harry pulled at the sheet draped over Louis to bring him in closer. “You know that video of yours?”

“'Ar- _ry._ ” Louis was embarrassed again.“Are there others like it? That I could watch?” “Of me?”Harry nodded.“ _Non_ ,” Louis assured him. “Just the one.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded again. He'd kind of hoped there were more, so he could figure out more stuff, like blowjobs and facials. He couldn't watch porn, that was so wrong, but surely it was different if it was your friend in the video. “I just... I like facials.”

Louis clapped a hand over his mouth, smiling. “It's so weird to hear you say that.”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “Shut up. Can you teach me other stuff? Not like sex!!” Harry rushed to add.

“Not like sex,” Louis mused.

“There are other things, right?” Harry asked. He wasn't exactly sure, but there was that gossip blog that had said 'pearl necklace', and that was supposed to be a sex thing. Maybe there was a whole bunch more.

“I guess so, yeah. Let me have a think about what.”“Yeah.” Harry nodded happily. “Hey, are you feeling all right?” “Yes!” Louis nodded immediately, a little bemused.

“You sure? You sound like you're losing your voice a bit. Are you all right to go to the meeting today?” Harry was pretty good at taking care of people when they were sick, but what if Louis got _really_ sick?

“Oh, it's fine.” Louis gave Harry's lips a quick kiss. “It won't get any worse.”

“How do you know?” Harry pressed. What if they had to get a doctor called in, what if someone figured out they'd shared a bed the night before?

“Don't worry!” Louis said, kissing Harry's worried expression off his face. “It's just from last night.”

“Doing what?” Harry asked. Louis hadn't been particularly loud.

Louis gave Harry's arm a light, playful slap. “Think about it.”

Harry quickly went over the previous night in his mind and – oh, _goodness_. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! I would have told you if you had.” Louis gave Harry a squeeze. “I had a wonderful time. You just have a huge cock and you really went for fucking my throat,” he went on calmly.

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry gasped. “I can't believe you, don't say that!”

“It's true. You were brilliant.”

“Better than the guy in that video with you?” Harry wiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up about that video. _T'es le meilleur, mon petit._ ” Louis scrunched up his nose and nuzzled it against Harry's. “You're the very, very best.”

Surely he was lying, just to make Harry feel good. Harry didn't mind; Louis was so nice to him.

“Speaking of videos. Have you watched your first episode yet?” Louis asked, looking at Harry quite intently.

“No, I haven't had time.”

“Yeah, you have,” Louis said with a slight frown. He pulled the sheet off them both, smiling for a second as he plucked a Lucky Charm marshmallow out of Harry's curls, but his face soon got serious again. “What's going on there?”

Harry couldn't explain that _this_ was what was going on. His heart had burst with pride that he, Harry Styles, _had a facial done! On him!_ and he couldn't then let that same heart burst with pride at being the Modern Missionary, he couldn't. He couldn't thank God for Louis and thank God for the role on the TV show because those two things were butting heads, they couldn't have both come from the _same_ God.

See, Harry had spent all morning looking at Louis. Like, properly looking at him. He was really good looking, you couldn't argue with that. He had nice teeth that weren't too big or small. Eyes that were sometimes clear and blue and piercing, sometimes so happy they crinkled until they were almost shut completely. His lips were a soft pink, a little thinner than Harry's own, and some days ninety percent of Louis' personality was contained right in those lips – little smirks and grins, or tight-lipped discomfort, or self-conscious micro-pouts; if you looked closely enough (and Harry always did), Louis' lips gave away exactly how he was feeling, no matter what his actual words were saying.

Louis had other things, too. Things that Harry really liked. A light scruff on his chin, and a smooth flat chest and nice arched eyebrows and small round fingernails and, well... none of those things were what Harry would look for in a _girl_. Harry liked the way Louis looked, but Louis was a man and that –

That was a problem.

Harry had been looking at Louis with his eyes all morning – he'd sort of been looking at Louis with his eyes for three weeks straight – how could he watch himself claiming to be a missionary of God with those same eyes?

\-----

“Are you nervous?” Louis guessed by Harry's expression. “Are you worried it won't be good, or something?”

Harry nodded.“I've watched half, _c'est bien,_ ” Louis assured him. “It's-” “'Good'. I know 'bien',” Harry interrupted with a proud smile.

“Impressive.” Louis couldn't help but wonder just how much French Harry was picking up. “I can watch it with you,” he offered. “It's always weird seeing yourself on camera. It won't be a big deal once you've seen it, though. I want to watch the rest, anyway.”

“Why'd you only get halfway?” Harry asked, sounding a little too curious – Louis was fairly sure the little shit already knew. Louis dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I've only got the iPad, but we can prop it up on a cushion,” he suggested. “You'll be able to see it all right, yeah?”

Harry gave him a look of absolute disbelief.“...What?” Louis said, a little self-conscious under Harry's gaze.“Just connect it to the TV, we can watch it off the big screen.” Harry said it like it was obvious. “Do you have a cord?”“It's 2014, Louis,” Harry said, utterly derisive. “ _Wireless?_ ”“You know how to do that?”“You don't?”Louis shook his head.

Harry laughed and took the iPad out of Louis' hand, walking off to the TV. He called out over his shoulder, “You're _so old._ You're lucky you've got me.”

“Don't I know it,” Louis said quietly, once Harry was out of earshot.

Louis settled down on the couch while Harry set up the iPad and started to play the show. When Harry came over he sat right in Louis' lap, which surprised Louis for a split-second before it started to feel completely natural. Harry was soft and little and had the perfect weight to him, grounding Louis while still letting him breathe.

Once again, Louis struggled to pay attention to the content of the show. If Harry was awkward or messing up it would have caught Louis' attention and kept him more focused in irritation, but Harry was perfect. As always.

He moved across the stage so naturally and it was easy for Louis to drift into thought, away from it. It was very easy to feel smug about three thousand people applauding every sentence Harry spoke – from that same sweet, dirty little rose-pink mouth that Louis had his cock in only a week or so prior.

Louis had lost himself completely last viewing when Harry had ran on stage for the band's final song. The way he moved was just too much. There wasn't anything sexual to it, Harry moved with complete innocence, but he had rhythm and surrendered himself to the song (and Louis refused to think about the implications of Harry getting so into a song _about God,_ no, that wasn't an inspiring thought at all), his legs and hips and head falling in minute crashes with every beat. Every so often he was a little clumsy but he didn't even care, he was still so confident with it, happily shrugging off his silliness, finding the beat again, and continuing. You can't learn rhythm like that, nor can you be taught confidence like that.

It was terrible to think of _the Modern Missionary_ like this, but...Louis just wanted to watch that confidence and rhythm bouncing up and down on his cock.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry hushed, twisting around in Louis' lap, which didn't help; his perky bum rocking over Louis' swelling cock. “I can feel that!”

Louis ducked his head to the side, hiding behind Harry's shoulder blades. “I'm sorry. You just look good when you're dancing.”

Harry paused the show and turned himself right around to face Louis, straddling his lap. He narrowed his eyes at Louis for a minute before speaking. “I have another question. It's a bit random, but you know when you – _you know_.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, waiting for Harry to go on. “You know!”“I don't.” Louis laughed. “You'll have to tell me.”

Harry tipped his head to the side, mouth screwed up in shyness. He quickly pointed a finger at his own bum.

“Listen,” Louis said gently, picking up the hand Harry was pointing with and kissing the fingertip. Harry's complete shyness was adorable, and kind of fucking hot, but it also felt a little wrong sometimes, like it infantalised him. “I know it's really confronting to actually say the words. But personally I think if you're able to do something, you should be able to talk about it too. _Tu peux essayer pour moi_ , can you give it a go?”

Thankfully, Harry gave an understanding nod. “Okay.... when you... lick my bum,” Harry said quietly, but he didn't look too happy about it.

“Bon garçon,” Louis praised, giving Harry a kiss on the cheek. “Good boy. There's an actual word for it, you know, if that'd be less weird.”

“Mm?” Harry perked up. “Rimming.”

“Rimming,” Harry repeated, sort of trying out the word on his lips. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “You know when you're rimming me?”

And – ah, fuck. Why had Louis taught him that? Harry suddenly sounded _filthy_ and Louis felt himself growing harder.

“Sure.”“Does it taste bad?”

“No!” Louis smiled. “Not at all. It's really just like skin. I mean, when your tongue's actually inside it does taste a little different, but I don't find it bad by any means.”

Harry leant back in shock, inadvertently grinding himself against Louis' erection. “What on earth?!”

“It tastes like... ah, _Je ne sais pas_ -”“Your tongue?” Harry interrupted, incredulous. “Inside someone's – you know.” His brow furrowed in thought. “ _How_?”

“I don't know,” Louis said, abashed – and he then kind of understood Harry's avoidance of the words, because it was one thing to do it but a whole other thing to talk about it so explicitly, especially external to the heat of the moment. “If someone's enjoying it enough that they're relaxed down there, you can just sort of poke and push your tongue in. It's really good. At least I think so.”

Harry sort of looked like he didn't take Louis' word for it.But also he sort of looked like he'd like to find out for himself.

Louis checked the time and groaned. “I've got to go get ready for the meeting.” Harry nodded obediently, getting up off Louis' lap.

\-----

After a quick rinse to get the traces of spilled breakfast off their skin, Harry put the fleur de lis necklace back on.

He'd looked it up. A fleur de lis was a symbol used in French heraldry, which seemed _very Louis_ \- Louis never seemed to speak fondly of Paris and tried to tell Harry that he wouldn't like it there, but Louis still seemed to wear his Frenchness like armour, insisting his name was pronounced the French way and leaving a good ten percent of his vocabulary in his mother tongue rather than committing fully to English.

The fleur de lis was supposed to be a lily of the valley – Harry could sort of see it. He'd looked up white lilies too. Apparently they represented innocence and purity which, Harry begrudgingly recognised, seemed _very Harry_. Harry read on, apparently there was a legend about the lily of the valley. It said that when God banished Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, Eve cried and the flowers had sprung from her teardrops.

That story definitely wasn't one of Harry's favourites from the bible. He'd never quite understood it. Eve disobeyed God so she was punished, yes – but all she wanted was knowledge, so she ate the fruit from the tree. It's not like she wanted to hurt anyone. She just wanted to understand things better. She was punished for wanting to know the truth.

Louis had tried on _six_ different outfits, repeatedly asking Harry which was better. “Maybe if I keep this shirt, but the pants from the second one, and wear that black and white pair of shoes just over there?” He pointed.

Harry couldn't really keep track of all the outfits, which pants had been second or third or fourth, but he nodded all the same. “Don't worry, you look good in everything. No hom... oh...” Harry caught himself too late. “I mean-”

Louis turned back to the full-length mirror and muttered, “ _Yes_ homo,” under his breath, starting to sound annoyed.

Harry pretended he hadn't heard.

Louis smiled again though, turning to Harry and apologising. “I should have figured this out last night, sorry.”

Outfit finally chosen, Louis paced the bathroom as he spoke to himself in uncertain Italian, spent double the necessary time on his hair and brushed his teeth _twice_ before Harry had shouted at him, “You're ready to leave, you couldn't get more ready, just _go_!”

Louis had beamed at Harry, thanked him, kissed him, and flew out the door. “Finish watching your show, okay?” he called out over his shoulder. “It's good, you should be proud.”

Harry did finish the episode, and it was pretty good, even though seeing the flashbacks to home made him miss his family a lot.

He didn't have room inside himself to be proud of the show, though; every part of Harry was aching for Louis. He'd only been gone an hour, but Harry needed him back. Harry and Louis should be making the most of their time alone.

Stupid Pucci. Stupid Pucci meeting. Stupid Italian Pucci people.

Harry had googled it. A lot of colourful dresses came up, in patterns that - Harry had to admit - were quite cool. Still, Pucci was stupid.

They didn't need to meet with Louis, surely they already knew him, already knew he was the best. They didn't need to take up Louis' precious time. Time that could be spent with Harry. Doing things with Harry. Doing things _to_ Harry.

Harry had to film tomorrow – it wasn't the bulk of an episode in front of a live audience, just some bits and pieces to fill it out more. Harry wasn't sure, exactly; nothing really got explained to him until the very last minute, why was that? Either way he knew he'd probably end up feeling like a hypocrite.

He couldn't he couldn't cope with the weight of being the Modern Missionary alone, and he needed time with Louis to calm him down. Proper time, uninterrupted, where they both got to sweat and come and then lie together for hours afterwards. Time in which Louis would repeat over and over again, in two different languages, that Harry was _good_.

That's where Harry's head stopped swirling, where he could stop thinking, because everything felt _so right_ when he was with Louis.

Harry started thinking about that. He started thinking about what Louis might want to do when he got back. He started to get hard, and for the first time, he didn't really want to punch himself in the gut and make it go away.

\-----

The meeting with Pucci was in the kind of over-the-top restaurant that Louis hadn't been to since arriving in the states this time around. He met with two female staff members and a male, who didn't explicitly state what their job titles were until Louis pushed for it; head of design, assistant to the head of overseas relations, and the PR manager. Impressive turnout, especially with them having to fly out to Vegas for it.

They weren't desperate by any stretch, though. They were cold and detached, all business and fake smiles and a calculated mix of hero worship and subtle belittling. They reminded Louis exactly of his old life and his old world and who he used to be, making him realise that maybe he wasn't the same person any more, but could he have really changed so much in such a short time?

Did he want to change? Or was he better off staying who he was in Paris, sarcastic and impatient and efficient and alone?

Louis had always been good at staying composed on the exterior, but inside he got momentarily lost in these thoughts. He unconsciously tugged at the hem of his shirt – he'd gained a couple of pounds in America, was he _sure_ the shirt fit him right? - and wondered if after having quit his old job over a month ago, was he too out of touch? Were they laughing at what he was wearing, should he have gone with a warmer cream rather than such a cool white? And he felt a little ill and wished he was back at the hotel room, back where he couldn't be judged, back with Harry, smiling and laughing -

The thought of Harry smiling and laughing, the thought of his lips, plump and pink and a little rough and dry, the way they moved when Harry spoke, they way they'd rush to kiss Louis before the brain attached to them second-guessed it; it all settled cosy inside Louis' chest and reassured him, allowing him to breathe again.

Louis knew he looked _good_ , in a crisp shirt he'd cheekily bought himself when he was purchasing dresses for the girls on Harry's show. If Louis knew anything, it was style. He relaxed, and when a waiter came by he ordered wine for the whole table. He knew French wine almost as well as he knew fashion, and it was a smart move, taking control over the whole table.

It was explained to him that the Pucci house was trying to move in a new direction – an overhaul, a revival. They needed strong personalities to take high-responsibility leadership and design positions, to carve out a new image in the same Pucci aesthetic, unifying their Italian roots with the French influence from the LVMH acquisition.

“It certainly sounds interesting,” Louis commented non-committally. It did sound interesting, and Louis didn't mind the idea of it at all – maybe for the next fifty years people would be talking about the new era of Pucci that Louis Tomlinson had ushered in. Maybe he'd even get his own brand, Tomlinson for Pucci. Maybe he'd completely take over Milan just like he'd taken over Paris.

 _World domination._ He smiled into his wine glass.

Louis left the meeting not a minute too late, as a phone call then came through from Jeremy.

He tried answering the phone, “This is Louis.” Maybe if Jeremy heard his name he'd start to get it right.

“Tomlinson!” Putain. “How's Harry doing since you two got to Vegas?”“Good. You heard Harry's radio interview?” Louis asked, hoping it wasn't odd for him to ask. “Yes, he did very well.”Louis quietly sighed with relief.“Being with you seems to ease his stage fright,” Jeremy commented.

“I've got a younger brother, I'm used to boys Harry's age,” Louis blurted out, stretching the truth. He did have a younger brother, from his mother's second marriage, but Ernest was born three years after Louis moved to Paris, so he hadn't exactly played the big brother role to a boy before.

He wasn't exactly playing a big brother role to Harry now, either.

Jeremy loved to hear Louis say that though, he cheerily recited his favourite line about the MM team being a family, before informing Louis that because of a lot of unexpected thunder and rain in Seattle, their flight had been cancelled.

“We've got the bus, but no matter how many corners we cut, we simply can't fit on everyone we need, let alone equipment. Don't really want to direct anyone to drive in the storm anyway.” Jeremy spoke quickly, highly annoyed. “Linda looked into renting a private jet, but it's not going to work. No planes are flying out.”

“They call it an act of God, don't they?” Louis said, not at all caring if Jeremy picked up on his tongue-in-cheek tone. “Can't control the weather.”

“When the weather permits, I'll send the bus driver off empty, but for now the rest of the team is grounded in Seattle. I highly doubt we'll be there to film tomorrow.”

“ _Merde_. That's not good, is it?”“We've still got three nights until we need this episode completed,” Jeremy said calmly. “Could stretch it to four. It'll be fine. What I do need is for you to take Harry to an event tonight.”

“An event?”

“I can get footage from some media associates that will be there. Two or three minutes of Harry, some red carpet and a talking head, just to help fill out the episode in case we're running short on time to film. I'm confident he can manage that. ”

“Okay, where?” Louis asked, because he was pretty sure Jeremy wouldn't be sending Eleanor Calder's Straight Boyfriend Louis Tomlinson to go see Britney's new show. What else was new in Vegas?

“The Fendi burlesque-cabaret show is opening tonight,” Jeremy said.

Louis' eye roll was so enormous that it may have been audible. Louis wasn't a fan of Fendi by any stretch – sorry, but anything they did with a handbag was something Balenciaga had already done four years prior. Their use of fur missed the mark completely, it was tacky and nouveau riche, and their color palette could only ever be pleasing to someone who was color _blind_. And – well – _maybe_ on the third week of his internship at Fendi, many many years ago, Louis had been caught making thirty black and white prints of his ass in the copy room, but he was nineteen and photocopiers were _made_ for asscheeks and they didn't have to _fire him_ for it, for fuck's sake. It had taken three months to get a new placement at a different label. He'd had to live off stale bread for weeks!

“It's perfect – all your fashion connections will be there. Keep Harry by your side, so when you're filmed, so is he. It'll be too easy.”

“This is a terrible plan,” Louis tried to rationalise to Jeremy. “Everyone there will know I'm gay. No point getting media attention on Harry if the same attention is reminding everyone who I am.” He didn't like having to pretend he was straight, not at all, but... if everyone believed he was with Eleanor no one would believe he was with Harry -

Not that he was _with Harry_.

“Which is why you can let slip in any little interviews that you loved the show and you'll definitely have to come back again with Eleanor. And you'll go through the shop on the way in and purchase gifts, _for Eleanor_.” Jeremy's diction was excessively clear, stressing the importance of his instructions. “Company card's yours. You can get something for yourself.”

“I don't want any Fendi,” Louis quickly cleared up. He tried a different angle; “The show's not to risqué for Harry?”

“I gather it's mostly about fashion and singing. I'm not certain, but there may be some very minor, very tasteful nudity. I don't want you or Harry to acknowledge that publicly, got it?”

Louis scoffed. Of course _Fendi_ wouldn't have the balls for proper nudity. Someone should show those idiots Le Crazy Horse de Paris, so they could see how it's really done.

“This isn't in my contract,” Louis argued, because Jeremy seemed to have made his mind up completely, and Louis did not want to go to a Fendi event. “You get to control my social media and you get to make me do things with Eleanor, fine, it's in my new contract and I'm getting paid to do it. There's nothing in my contract about appearances with Harry.”

“This isn't work, Louiss,” Jeremy argued. “It's free tickets to a show – an opening. It'll be fun.”

Part of Louis did want to go, though. Because the event would be filled with people from Louis' old world who would probably take one glance at Harry by Louis' side and have it figured out instantly. They wouldn't be scandalised by Harry's age, they'd seen far worse. In fact, they'd be impressed, and they'd be secretive about it too, because there was a cone of silence in the fashion world. Things worked differently there, and it didn't matter if you did or didn't agree with someone, you still didn't want an outsider involved.

They'd know, though, they'd talk amongst themselves; _Louis Tomlinson just up and left to America last month, and now he's parading around a boy toy who's supposed to be famous for being the perfect Christian teenager!_

Which, no, wasn't what was going on with Harry exactly... but the idea of people thinking that was _tantalising_.

“Neither of us have anything appropriate to wear. I'll have to get us both outfits. They won't be cheap.” Louis crossed his fingers, waiting for Jeremy's response.

“Understandable, that's fine. Linda will send through your event invitations. Done?” “Done. Will we need to change rooms tonight?” Louis agreed.

“No, Linda will sort it out so you can stay in the suite. I'm really not sure when we'll get in, I don't want Harry getting bored.”

“Tell Linda not to worry, I'll sort it out,” Louis said quickly. He really didn't need Linda realising she'd accidentally booked them a couple's suite with one bed, not now they'd stayed in it overnight. “I'm sure she's got enough to deal with in Seattle.”

“Thanks, Louiss. I'll be in touch when the weather's cleared.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Harry heard the main door of the suite swing open then thud shut again. “Arry!” Louis called out in a sing-song voice. “Hey, Curly! I'm ba-ack!”

“In the bedroom,” Harry called back. “Coming.”

“Hurry up,” Harry said quickly, because he'd been psyching himself up for over an hour, and now that Louis was here, it was crunch time.

“ _Che bello!_ ” Louis proclaimed in Italian when he entered the bedroom and saw Harry, who'd done his hair and tried to pick out a good outfit. “You're a sight for sore eyes.”

“How'd it go?” Harry asked. He didn't want to stall himself, but he did really care about how Louis' meeting was.

“It went well,” Louis said. “Pucci are fucking pricks.”“And... that's a good thing?” Harry asked, confused.“Yeah, it's good.” Louis winked at him. “Weather in Seattle's fucked, though-” “Louis,” Harry hushed. “Please.”

Louis humoured him; “ _Je suis désolé_ , I meant the weather's _bad_. The team's flight was cancelled and Jeremy and Linda are sorting it out, but they definitely won't be in today. The good news is we've got the suite another night or two. The bad news is we've got to go to a show tonight. Another 'appearance'.”

Harry kind of felt nervous and excited at once; even more alone time with Louis. He nodded, mostly to encourage himself. “Okay... Okay. Okay-”

“Okay?” Louis checked, leaning in to Harry.

“Well... can I rim you now?” Harry blurted out. _Smooth._

Louis coughed.

“Just to see what it's like! On the other side of it,” Harry explained quickly. “Not in a gay way, I'm-”

Louis joined in with him, sarcastically singing the last two words as he bopped his head; “Not gay!” He showed Harry he wasn't doing it in a mean way, though, reaching out and gently stroking Harry's arm with the back of his fingers. “You're just 'Arry, aren't you?” he said softly. “The boy with the curls.”

“The boy who really wants to try... that thing,” Harry stammered. “Only if you want.”

“Oh my God, 'Arry.” Louis let out of the side of his mouth. “Sometimes I don't quite know how to deal with you.” He lifted up a foot, untying his shoelaces.

 

Shoes off and bare-footed, Louis pulled Harry into a tight hug, murmuring into the top of his head. “You're only sixteen, baby. You don't have to rush, you've got plenty of time to try it.”

“Yes, but you're thirty-two,” Harry argued with a dimpled grin. “That's ancient. I've got to try it on you before you drop dead.”

Louis gave a scoff of disbelief, poking the tip of his tongue out the corner of his lips. “How dare you.”

“Just answer the question, Louis,” Harry pleaded, because Louis was making this so difficult and Harry was ten times more nervous than he'd been a moment ago. “Do you want to do it?”

“Oui,” Louis said, an incredibly fond smile crossing his face. “Could we go to the bathroom?” “How come?” Harry asked, because they'd both already showered that morning.

“Lots of big mirrors,” Louis mumbled, abashed, as he took Harry's hand and lead him out of the bedroom. “I want to watch you doing it.”

Which was – oh, gosh. _Wow_.

“Can I kiss you?” Louis asked, leaning back against the large bathroom countertop, knees spread apart to so Harry could stand in front of him.

Harry nodded, heart absolutely thumping in his chest. “That would be good.”

Louis pulled him in until their knees were fitted together, cupping Harry's cheeks in his hands. He leant right in, breathing in the air between them for a moment, before tipping his head up and kissing Harry right on his lips. As they kissed, Harry's anxiety started to melt away, because everything felt so good with Louis, and Harry really felt safe around him.

“You know you don't have to do anything, _oui_?” Louis checked, his forehead resting against Harry's.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Doesn't matter if I don't come. Or if you do it for two seconds and hate it. You just tell me, and we can do something else, or we can just go watch a movie instead.”

Harry nodded his head against Louis', and kissed him some more.

Louis was very kind, but Harry was quite determined. It was an incredible feeling, making Louis feel good in _that way_ ; there were sharp gasps and ' _aah!_ 's and slightly glazed eyes staring at Harry in what looked a lot like complete amazement. Harry really liked making Louis feel good, and that in turn made Harry feel better; because it was wrong to just hook up with someone if you weren't in a serious relationship, let alone to hook up with a _man_. This, however, wasn't just hooking up and giving into his body's sinful desires, it couldn't be, not if Harry cared about Louis and wanted to make _him_ feel good, too. That had to make it at least a bit better.

Harry could feel that Louis had messed up his hair a little, and Harry's lips were starting to feel all

nice and _kissed_ and he was hard and he could see that Louis was hard to. But... “This still feels awkward,” Harry laughed.

“Did you want to sto– I guess not,” Louis laughed too when Harry started to unzip Louis' pants. “Listen, sex is awkward sometimes.”

Harry shot his hands up in front of him in protest. “This isn't sex!”

“Sure,” Louis agreed, linking his fingers through Harry's, keeping them held up between them. “Whatever you want to call stuff like this. It isn't always smooth, like in a movie or something.”

“I know. But this is better than a movie.” Harry smiled, leaning up to kiss Louis.

“ _Jesus_ , 'Arry.” Louis sighed softly before meeting him in the kiss. “Why'd you say that?” But it wasn't really a question.

Harry tugged down Louis' pants. He pulled down his underwear too. Louis shook them off his calves and stepped out of them, and before he could pick them up, Harry kicked them into the corner of the room. He tugged Louis' shirt off too and threw it over to join his pants.

Louis glanced over to the small pile of crumpled clothes, and Harry's eyes followed. When Louis looked back at Harry, he smiled, shrugged, and said, “Fuck 'em.”

“All right,” said Harry.

Louis was completely naked now, tanned and taut. It felt weird to be fully dressed when Louis was naked, so Harry quickly whipped off his t-shirt and pants too and – with a reckless grin flashed at Louis – tossed them over to land on top of Louis' clothes.

“You'll pay for that later.” Louis smiled, his mouth so close to Harry's lips that Harry could feel each word. “I'm going to have to iron that whole pile.” But he was tugging Harry's underwear off while he kissed him, flicking the elastic waistband so they soared through the air and landed on the heap too.

Harry's eyes dropped down, taking in the parts of Louis he didn't get to see _quite_ as often. Louis' tiny little belly hadn't robbed him of the v-cut in his hips and it was like every part of him lead to his – his _thing_ , which was hard and sticking out a bit and so – Harry thought it was so -

Well, Harry didn't have to worry about the implications of that right now, because that's not where this was headed. “Turn 'round, then.”

Louis obeyed, going all out – he turned right around, stepped his feet back from the bathroom counter, and folded himself over. He leant his elbows up on the countertop, displaying that nice bum of his to Harry. Louis glanced to the very large mirror on the wall to his left, and then the one on his right, and let out a small sigh of disbelief, like he couldn't fathom what he was about to watch.

Harry got down on his knees, but Louis quickly reached to the side and whipped a towel off the railing, holding it out behind him for Harry. “So your knees don't get sore on the tiles.”

“ _Merci._ ” Harry took the towel, pretending not to hear the tiny pleased giggle Louis let out at Harry's attempt at French.

Harry folded the towel and placed it underneath his knees, looking up. Right, this was – hm. He rocked up for a second, pushing the towel forward and shuffling closer to Louis. Better.

Harry started his hands at Louis' knees, running them up across the hair on his thighs – Louis had such nice thighs, he wasn't anything like an hourglass shape but for a small, fit man they were nice and curvy - before sliding his hands up onto Louis' bum. Harry felt his dick give a small twitch, which... he didn't really have to ignore, did he? He looked down at himself, then quickly flicked his eyes over to the mirror at the side – Louis was looking in the mirror too. There wasn't any hiding, Louis had caught Harry observing his body's reaction to grabbing Louis' ass.

Not that his body would have a reaction to a man's body, because – frick – Harry wasn't gay, he just wanted to try rimming because he'd had it done on him and now he wanted to see what it was like to _do_ it, he was just figuring it out, but guy's bums didn't turn him on, he wasn't gay.

Just to make his head _shut up_ , Harry rushed forward, softly pushing Louis' ass apart a little, and gave a decisive lick across Louis' hole. Harry didn't even react because Louis got there first; he let out a _squeak_ and slumped forward. Harry heard his knees meet the side of the counter in front of him and he couldn't see Louis' head any more, so Louis must have dropped his forehead or mouth right onto his forearms in front of him.

“Was that...?” Harry asked uncertainly, keeping his hands on Louis' bum.“ _Très bien!_ ” Louis gasped out, his voice echoing off the tile. He sounded positively feverish already. _Wow_.

Harry leant back in and licked again, a little slower this time. Louis was shaved hairless and Harry wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but the skin back there was incredibly smooth and soft and silky, like the inside of a wrist. Softer, even. Harry licked over and over, just in a way of discovery and Louis had been right, it definitely didn't taste bad. Which changed a lot of things because Harry had been taught that the things gay guys did to each other's butts was disgusting. This definitely wasn't that. This was indescribable, but it certainly wasn't disgusting.

Harry's tongue got just a little dry from wiping against Louis' skin, so he let himself drool a little and lapped at Louis again, who _shivered_ when he felt Harry's wet tongue. Harry licked again and and Louis pushed his ass back into Harry's hands – Harry pulled his head back in surprise and Louis gasped, “Sorry, I just-” and then couldn't finish the sentence.

“It's fine,” Harry said quietly. “Just give me a sec?”“Mm-hm,” Louis hummed, leaning forward again into the counter.

After a moment, Louis then turned his head over his shoulder to look at Harry, and asked, “Want to stop?”

“No,” Harry let out lowly. “I've only just started.”Louis gave a slow blink and the corners of his mouth crept up into a smile, his nose twitching a

little like there was so much affection within him it couldn't be contained. He saw Harry looking at him and ducked his head back around, but then peeked to the mirror on the other side. Harry followed his gaze, and their eyes then met in the reflection.

“Stop looking at me,” Louis said like he didn't mean it at all.“You stop looking at _me_ ,” Harry countered.Neither of them looked away. Louis pressed his lips together, eyes fixed on Harry's reflection.

Harry broke first, blushing and trying to shake the embarrassment off his face, because Louis just looked at him so _fondly_. Harry turned his head back to Louis's bum.

Louis' _ass_. Louis' cute, round ass that Harry's hands were still on. Harry just looked at his own hands for a second – they looked big and grown up, gripping onto someone's butt cheeks like that. Louis' ass was so nice and perky, these two half-spheres, lightly tanned (that bare bum was tanned; it had been out and exposed in broad daylight at some point, _goodness_ ). Under Louis' skin there was a small layer of flesh that was soft and squishy, but when Harry gripped his fingers in hard he quickly met muscle, firm and resistant.

Harry let go of Louis' cheeks and they fell down just a tiny bit from where Harry had pushed them up. He ran his hands right over, smoothing across the domes of Louis' bum, the sides of his hips, his lower back where you could see the dip of his spine, right under his butt where his thighs started, warm and thick and strong. Harry pushed his hands between them, squeezing Louis' inner thighs, the backs of his hands grazing against Louis' balls, hanging down.

He heard Louis swallow and take a slow, deep breath – glancing at the mirror Harry saw Louis, head tilted up, eyes shut. He looked liked he was being very patient, and Harry realised he'd gotten completely distracted by Louis' fantastic butt and abandoned his butt _hole_.

Harry held Louis' bum again and separated the cheeks just a fraction to fit his face back in. It was wet there, from Harry's spit, and it sort of got on his cheeks and his nose and he hesitated for a second. It was weird, but it was also kind of messy and reckless and naughty; and that felt very very good. Harry opened his mouth and let his tongue out, licking at Louis again.

This time he didn't just lick right over, but he got the tip of his tongue to find Louis' hole, lick right at it, and again that was something Harry had never felt before – let alone tasted. Louis' rim was especially, surprisingly soft. The skin was so smooth, like – like nothing Harry's tongue had ever been on, but it also _moved_. Louis' hole didn't stay fixed and firm like Harry would have expected, the flesh dipped in and rocked a tiny bit with the movement of Harry's tongue, giving in to his gentle pressure. It was incredible.

Harry felt a tiny drop of precome dripping out of of his own cock, but he didn't want to let go of Louis so it just pulsed out and slid down his shaft as he continued to lap at Louis' hole. Harry focused on just feeling Louis under his tongue, getting a tiny little bit used to it, and most of all just _enjoying_ it.

Louis wasn't exactly quiet normally, but the sounds he was making now were amplified by the bathroom tiles around them. It wasn't the strong, masculine grunts and ' _aah's_ that he made when Harry gave him a blowjob, nor was it the determined breaths he gasped between kisses. Louis was different like this.

Harry had only been doing – _this_ \- for a few minutes, but Louis had sort of flopped over onto himself, pushing up on the balls of his feet, like he had to lean everything he had up onto the counter to stay upright. Harry had this done to himself twice but in fairness, he'd never had to try to stand up during it. Louis kept his elbows up on the countertop, and Harry wondered if Louis' cock was feeling light and thick and tingly, throbbing and screaming to be touched, just like his own.

Harry kept his tongue exploring Louis' hole. It wasn't clenched tight, Harry could actually poke his tongue into the small dip it circled. When he pulled back, Louis' hole looked positively lustrous, bright pink in the middle, much darker skin to the sides, wet with spit all over. Harry couldn't quite believe that was his doing. A quick glance at the mirror to the side; Louis' mouth was open in fixed expression of shock, like he couldn't quite believe it either.

Louis must have felt Harry pause, because his eyes flicked up to the mirror – wrong side at first, then over to the other side, again meeting Harry's gaze in the reflection. Harry leant forward and licked again, keeping his eyes on Louis in the mirror. He couldn't see what he was doing then, and he sort of missed Louis' hole, but Louis didn't mind; his eyes basically bugged out of his head as he watched Harry, licking his ass and watching him back.

“ _Tu te moques de moi?_ ” Louis gasped out in disbelief. “ _Tes yeux verts,_ Christ, you're so pretty.” And his voice didn't sound the same. He still sounded like Louis, but a Louis that was whimpering and weak, as well as invincible, all at once. “ _Tu as seize ans, 'Arry!_ ”

Harry shuffled on his knees, getting into a more comfortable position so he could focus. He'd figured it out a little. He now knew what it tasted like and exactly how someone could fit their mouth right against someone else's butt, their hole, and now he really wanted to do it properly. Harry suspected that if someone did this well enough, Louis' legs might start to shake, he might scream, he might even feel like Harry had felt the first time he'd had it done on him; _I think I could come from this alone_ – Harry didn't know if he was good enough to do any of that to Louis, but he was going to try.

He squeezed Louis' butt, pressing his fingers into the flesh again. Louis let out a happy little “ _Mmf!_ ” and Harry swore he saw Louis' hole flicker, clenching up for a split-second before relaxing again.

Once more Harry put his lips on Louis, but he started further out this time, mouthing up and down as he moved inwards. He didn't really know what he was doing, just sort of kissing and licking at Louis' skin as if it was his lips or his neck, but Louis hummed out a soft moan and wiggled his hips just a little. He seemed to like it so much that Harry skipped past his hole completely and just worked his mouth on the inside of the other cheek too.

Harry swore he heard Louis let out, “Fucking tease,” under his breath.

Feeling a little powerful from observing Louis ever so slightly falling apart in front of him, Harry dug his fingernails into Louis' cheeks a bit. “What's that?”

“ _Lèche mon cul, s'il te plait._ ” Louis could have been saying absolutely anything, Harry knew 'please', but he didn't understand the first bit at all and it _didn't even matter_ , the French sounded so good with Louis' voice. Harry kind of loved that Louis had his own language, like he could scream it - whatever dirty desperate thing it was - at Harry, at the top of his lungs in a room full of people, and no one would understand it. It would be their little secret.

Harry swivelled one of his hands in a bit, stroking a finger over Louis' hole. Louis let out a sharp breath from his nose and his whole body gave a small twitch forward – Harry couldn't believe Louis' reactions from tiny little touches alone. Louis' hole was slippery from saliva and Harry met no resistance, his fingertip dipping in just far enough to cover his fingernail.

Louis let out something like an “Ooh!”, his mouth muffled against his own arms as his whole top half shuddered down into the bathroom counter. “'Arry, oui, oui-”

Harry remembered what Louis had said that morning, and it hadn't made sense then but now Harry actually had a butt hole in front of him it seemed a lot more possible. He slid his hand back to prop up Louis' cheek again and just slammed his lips into Louis, pointing his tongue and poking it in as hard as he could, his whole face pressed in tight so that his nose was getting pushed up a bit, breathing desperately through it.

It worked, _it worked!_ Harry's tongue slid in a bit, and it felt tight and he had to keep making an effort to keep it in there, but it had worked. Louis was right, it did taste different up there – _up someone's frickin' bum!_ Harry couldn't explain it, but he also couldn't control the fact that he really liked it, that completely involuntary wet sounds were escaping out the side of his lips.

Louis was making sounds too – whimpers with an inflection that sounded a lot like he was pleading, begging, and he was breathing hard enough that Harry could hear each exhalation and inhalation. Louis' legs did tremble in front of Harry, and this time he hit his knees quite hard into the bench in front of him. Harry thought Louis swore, but his voice was such a breathy whine that Harry couldn't fully make out what words he was saying.

Harry's cock was feeling hot and sort of tight but he'd passed the point where he had to make himself not grab it, he felt like he didn't need to anymore, because – well, he was enjoying doing this just as much as he'd enjoyed doing blowjobs.

Harry slid his tongue out of Louis' hole and licked a circle right around his rim. He might even be enjoying this more.

Harry slid both his hands in closer. “Can I, like...” He didn't even know how to explain it, he didn't even know if it was a thing, but he pressed both of his index and middle fingers at the sides of Louis' hole and pulled out just a bit. “Is that-”

“Oui, oui, oui!” Louis urged, rushing it together so it sounded like one silly long word. His voice cracked a little.

So Harry spread Louis with his fingers and licked at Louis' hole before pushing his tongue firmly in once more, and it went in with more ease this time. Harry went as deep as he could go, the underside of his tongue straining tight. Harry heard several loud cracks echo around him – Louis was repeatedly slapping the counter in front of him as he softly whined.

Forget what Harry had ever thought about his own shaved balls, or Louis' lips, or any part of Louis' skin, _this was it_. This was the most impossibly soft smooth thing, like the finest velvet, and hot and wet and tight and squishy and absolutely delicious.

“Mmm,” Harry moaned sharply into Louis, warning him – but he couldn't wrench himself away. He twisted his hands on Louis' bum cheeks a little, tugging at his skin, digging his fingernails in once more because he wanted to feel Louis, and he also needed diffuse how frantic he was feeling himself. “Mm - _mm!_ ” Harry moaned in warning once more, shaking his head – but he was shaking his mouth too, against Louis's hole and that didn't help, his cock was beginning to twitch and he could feel his balls tightening up -

Harry shut his eyes and rocked up on his knees and let his tongue slide out of Louis' hole to lick him again, just over and over from underneath Louis' hole to above it, and then he realised he didn't have to lift his tongue off every time, he could go down to up and then _up to down_ and then down to up again.

Then he let out a loud, high whimper of apology as he did pull his face back a bit, biting into the flesh of Louis' butt out by his fingers because if he didn't have something in his mouth, he'd _scream_.

Harry's cock began to really pulse and his stomach leapt and he came, spurting out hot and free, sinking his teeth down hard as he gasped against the skin of Louis' behind.

When the urgency faded and Harry settled into something more like an aftershock, he released his jaw off Louis and sat back on his heels. Wet white streaks had landed all over Louis' left foot, that Louis had gingerly half-lifted up off the floor.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry,” Harry groaned, quickly yanking the towel out from under his knees and wiping Louis' foot off, despite his shaking hands.

“ _Merde_ , don't apologise,” Louis said sweetly, looking down at his foot as he lifted it into the towel that Harry held. Wiped clear, he turned around and pulled Harry up to stand. “It's so fucking hot when you do that. You're amazing. You're so amazing.”

“Shh.” Harry blushed and looked down, because he didn't deserve such high praise, not when this was nothing special, not when he was just Louis' friend.

Well...Louis' friend who really wanted to kiss him.Louis' hands found Harry's cheeks, tilting his head back up to look at him. “You okay?” “Yeah.”

“No?” Louis guessed.“It's okay, I just... I wish I could kiss you,” Harry explained.

Louis just pulled Harry's head forward and kissed him - properly kissed him, pressing his lips over Harry's top lip then his bottom lip then slipping his tongue between them, lightly darting against Harry's own tongue.

Harry let out a noise of protest, pulling back. “Louis, I just -” Did Louis really have to be reminded? “Had my mouth on - you know.”

“It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you.” Louis smiled, shrugging.

Harry looked at Louis in disbelief. “But it's gross!”

“You had your mouth down there,” Louis pointed out. “Was it gross?”

“No,” Harry assured him. “But...” He cut himself off. “Oh. You've got a point.”

Louis pulled Harry's head in again and continued kissing him. Harry wondered if his mouth tasted different. He wondered if Louis liked it.

Louis was a really good kisser, and Harry was sort of relieved that he'd just come, because – because Louis was _really good_. Just with his hands resting on the sides of Harry's face, his lips pressed against Harry's, the hair on his chin and cheeks very lightly grazing Harry's own skin; he had Harry's stomach swirling and electricity sparking through his crotch and his pulse beating fast and his chest kind of felt tight, incredibly tight in a really good way.

Harry pulled back and asked, “Can I keep going?”

Louis head dropped down to Harry's shoulder, and he let out a soft laugh. “ _Oui_ , please.” He rocked his head to the side and kissed at Harry's neck, which made Harry's heart jolt, Louis' wet lips smoothing over him, his teeth very gently tugging at Harry's skin.

Harry shut his eyes tilted his chin up, trying to expose more of his neck. “More,” he whimpered. Excruciatingly, Louis gave a very soft little kiss and pulled back completely. “I'm so sorry, _mon_

 _petit_ , I can't. Not on your neck where anyone could see.”Harry gulped and nodded. Louis was right. He grabbed Louis' shoulders and turned him around

again, pushing him a bit to lean back against the sink. “I'll have to rough _you_ up then,” Harry said.

“Oh, my,” Louis said, like he was trying to sound cool and in control. Harry had only known Louis three weeks but he _knew_ Louis' voice, he knew Louis was currently nothing even close to cool or collected.

Harry dropped down to the towel, half hoping his knees didn't land on where his come was, and half not caring. Right down from Louis' ankles, he trailed his fingertips up the inside of Louis' legs until his hands were flat on his butt again. Small faint red lines had bloomed where Harry had bit down, and he stroked them gently with one fingertip in apology. “Did I hurt you?” he asked softly.“I'm fine,” Louis' voice came from above him.

Harry didn't want to wait, he didn't want to pepper Louis' lower back with tiny kisses, he didn't want to massage his thighs, he just _went_ for it, diving his face back in. Louis leant further over the counter and twisted his legs in a little so this time Harry didn't even need to pull Louis' butt apart – there was maybe more flesh by his face but it kind of framed his mouth in a nice way, snug and cosy and warm and wet.

He poked his tongue out firmly and ran a hard line up over Louis' rim, then dropped back down in a full loop around the small circle of soft, crinkled flesh. Louis let out a happy, high hum, wiggling his bum a bit. “'Arry,” he sighed, dreamy and blissful.

Harry felt calmer, relaxed and sort of gooey in his belly, now that he'd come. He could be calm and focus on making _Louis_ just as frantic as Harry had gotten.

Harry worked on getting Louis' hole nice and slick and wet again. It got all over his own mouth and a little bit on his cheeks, but it didn't matter, it's not like anyone could see. Ah, wait. Harry glanced over at the mirror and Louis _was_ watching in the reflection – but his brow was turned up into the middle of his forehead, his lower lip was gripped tight between his teeth and his fringe was hanging limp like it was a bit sweaty. If Harry was a mess it didn't matter, because Louis was too.

Harry lifted his mouth off to suck at his own finger for a second, then realised he'd better ask before he did anything. He trailed his fingertip over Louis' rim, the soft rippled skin. It was so perfect, this tiny part of Louis that was so hidden and private, unseen until he was like this, and he was like this for Harry. “Can I?”

“Oui,” Louis gasped out, voice raspy in his throat.

Harry gently pushed and his finger slid right in. Louis' opening was tight, not in a bad way, just snug around Harry's finger, but the deeper Harry went in the softer and more relaxed it felt, kind of squishy and spongey but still smooth and silken. Harry didn't exactly know what to do, it was kind of different to when Louis had been on his back in front of Harry, more vertical this time. He knew Louis had liked it deep though, so he slowly pushed his finger in until the base of it was enveloped and his other knuckles were pressed firmly against the sides of Louis' rim.

“Fuck, yes,” Louis groaned. With shaking legs, he pushed his ass back against Harry's hand.

He had such a nice butt, Harry really couldn't get over it, especially not when it was being thrust back into his face. He'd resume doing _that thing_ to Louis in a second, but for now he slowly pulled his finger out and let his hand grip Louis' butt cheeks again – it was rapidly becoming Harry's very favourite position to have his hands in – and squeezed, hard. Louis' muscles ripped under Harry's fingers as he tensed up in delight.

Harry relaxed his hands again, observing the pink dots he'd pressed into Louis' skin slowly fading away again. He stroked the skin lightly, feeling very fine hair beneath his palms. Louis sighed happily, shuffling on his feet like he'd regained some strength in his legs.

Harry got one of those weird passing thoughts, but ignored it, because there was something a lot more important going on right now. He started to press in his palms to properly rub Louis' flesh.

The thought wasn't going away and Harry tried to shake his head, to physically toss it out, but it wouldn't leave his mind alone. Louis' butt was _perfect_ and Harry desperately wanted to crash into it with the palm of his hand, explicitly acknowledge that _my hand is on your ass_ with a loud slap -

His right hand lifted up almost on it's own accord, fingers splayed. He quickly clasped his hands together, gripping tight, and toppled back onto his behind, falling a good foot or two away from Louis.

Harry heard himself give a sort of strangled cry, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, he kept gasping. What the hell was wrong with him, why did he want to do that? Louis was his friend. _You don't hit your friends!_ Harry screamed at himself. _That's insane, that's psychopathic!_

Louis had whipped around, concern clear on his face. He quickly knelt down in front of Harry.

Harry shook his head at Louis, feeling his lips tremble. He'd gotten in too deep, he should have listened to all his doubts, he'd known it from the very first time he thought about kissing a guy: something was seriously wrong with him. Who would have thought that Louis, the French one, the _gay one_ , was the good person. Harry was awful, he was a monster.

“ _Mon petit?_ ” Louis said cautiously, shuffling forward. “What's going on? Can I touch you?” he asked, raising a hesitant hand above Harry's knee.

“No, don't, I'll -” Harry couldn't stand to say it out loud but he had to be honest, he had to keep Louis safe. “I'll hurt you!” he gasped, feeling tears pooling in his eyes. He wiped at them angrily with the towel.

“Baby, of course you won't,” Louis said gently, sitting back a bit to give Harry space. “You're wonderful.”

“No I'm not!” Harry hotly argued. “I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm bad-”

Louis did then reach out to rest on Harry's knee, interrupting his words as he firmly stroked the top of Harry's shin with his thumb. “You're not. You're my good boy.”

“Don't touch me, I'll hurt you!” Harry cried, leaping up.“Why are you saying that?” Louis said, standing too. “You've never hurt me.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to hit you! On your bum!” Harry felt even _worse_ , hearing those words come out of his own mouth. Nothing could make this better.

“That's-” Louis started, but Harry continued wailing.

“Who thinks that kind of thing?! What is wrong with me?!” But he knew Louis wouldn't have an answer, so, still bare naked, Harry raced out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him so Louis couldn't follow. He didn't stop running until he crashed down on the bedroom floor, curling his knees up to his chest and wanting to rip his own hand off.

\-----

Louis wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He was pretty sure he knew what Harry was getting at. He was pretty sure Harry, however, had no idea what he himself had been getting at. Harry seemed distraught and Louis kind of understood it; he and Harry had pushed each other around a tiny little bit, there'd been some very gentle biting, but that was it. By any real standard, Louis had been nothing close to rough with Harry, and Harry's experiences with Louis seemed to be all the boy had to go by.

Louis knew he wasn't the one who got spanked. If anything, he was the one who might slap an ass while fucking it.

He wasn't quite sure what balance he was supposed to be striking with Harry in their friendship _thing_ , but if Harry was, like he kept repeating, ' _not gay_ ' and ' _just wanted to see what it's like'_ , then, Louis shrugged to himself, he'd be happy to put up with Harry hitting his ass a few times, experimentally.

Louis knocked on the bedroom door. Harry didn't answer, but Louis could hear him breathing, sounding a little strangled. “Mon petit, I'm going to have a shower and order some room service, okay? I'll be quick. Will you eat with me?”

Silence.“I'd really like you to. I still l– I trust you, Harry. You're fine, okay. You're good.”

By the time Louis had gotten dressed, there was a buzz at the door and the food was brought in – pizza for Harry and a salad for Louis, because he really should. He brought it out to the lounge, flopping onto the couch.

“Mmm!” he called loudly, pretending to be talking to himself. “This pizza smells amazing! I feel sorry for anyone who misses out on it. You'd definitely want to eat it while it was hot.”

Nothing.

“Oh, look,” Louis went on, practically hollering. “The iPad's still here in the lounge. I could watch something on the TV.” Louis raised his voice even louder, his voice starting to rasp, “I could look up _spanking porn_ and watch that, because that's a thing that people do, a sexy thing, spank each other. It's really normal, there's heaps of videos about it.”

Louis heard the bedroom door slowly click open. It was working.

“Except I'm an incompetent, ancient thirty-two year old,” Louis went on. “I don't know how to work the TV screen with the iPad, so I guess I can't watch one of _the millions of videos of people spanking each other,_ because that's a _really normal thing_ that people do and _it's fine to want to do it_ and there's _lots of videos of it,_ but _I can't work the TV!_ What a shame!”

Harry's little footsteps padded out into the lounge. Louis turned around to see him standing there in his flannel pyjamas, just blinking.

“My goodness, Harry. I didn't realise you were home.”

“Shut up,” Harry said with a very halfhearted giggle. A quarter-hearted giggle. “You know I'm here.”

“Ah – of course – _you're_ who I ordered the pizza for.” Louis feigned recollection. “Come on.”

Harry hesitated.

“ _Come on,_ ” Louis insisted. “Put the TV on and bring me the iPad.”

“Okay,” Harry said, and did just that. He sat gingerly down at the end of the couch, as far away from Louis as he could possibly get.

Louis pulled up a porn site, trying to scroll quickly through the thumbnails so Harry didn't see anything too extreme.

“Woah,” Harry said, amazed by the sight before him on the big screen. “You weren't lying?” “No,” Louis smiled at Harry. “It's a thing people do, and it's fine, it's normal.”“It's weird, though.”Louis shrugged. “Sex is weird.”

“Not sex!” Harry quickly protested.

“Right, not sex,” Louis echoed. He then winked at Harry. “Just spanking.”

“Shh,” Harry blushed, reaching for a slice of pizza.

“You believe me, then? We don't have to watch a video.”

Harry spoke through a mouthful of pizza, inaudible.

“ _Quoi?_ Manners,” Louis scolded, then instantly cringed at the way he was parenting Harry. “Actually, fuck it, talk with your mouth full, I don't care.”

Harry dropped his mouth open to show off a mouthful of chewed pizza, before closing it and swallowing. “I said, we could still watch one. Or two.”

“All right.” Louis selected a video that looked tame enough, but Harry quickly protested “Eurgh, no, not with a _girl_ in it!” and Louis had to fight really, really hard to keep an enormous smile off his face.

He scrolled back up, filtering by M/M, and passed the iPad over to Harry. “You pick, then.”

Eating a garden salad next to a 16 year old - who had a metabolism youthful enough to consume an entire pizza, the lucky little shit – surely wasn't Louis' idea of fun. Having to watch spanking porn after he'd just been rimmed into a state of gut-twisting blue balled-discomfort definitely wasn't Louis' idea of fun.

There was absolutely nowhere else he'd rather be.

Harry selected a video, and while it buffered Harry clambered over right into Louis' lap. “You sure it's okay to watch this?” he asked, as if Louis had the authority to keep Harry out of the very pits of hell. “Porn's like, really bad, you know.”

“Firstly, you're just watching it to understand that there's nothing wrong with getting an urge to hit someone, as long as you ask them for permission first,” Louis started, giving Harry a firm kiss on the lips. “Secondly, there's nothing wrong with porn anyway. You're allowed to watch whatever the hell you want, for any damn reason.”

Harry shook his head like he disagreed, but he settled down into Louis' lap and fixed his eyes on the screen.

He hadn't picked a bad video at all. Louis had to laugh, internally, at the fit, tanned brunette men Harry had picked, one a little older with a light beard. Someone had a type.

The video started playing. The older one sat in a chair and the younger was then bent over him, his pants roughly tugged down.

“Don't think I want you on my lap like that,” Harry said quietly.

“That's fine,” Louis assured him.

The man began hitting the other's ass, three sharp slaps in rapid succession.

“Wow,” Harry breathed out.

“Um, you shouldn't start off so hard if you're doing it in real life,” Louis quickly explained. “Porn isn't always very accurate.”

“Start off gently,” Harry said as if he was making a mental note.

“ _Harder,_ ” the younger guy in the video whimpered. “ _Harder, Daddy, please. I've been a bad little boy, punish me._ ”

Louis bristled, quickly grabbing Harry's shoulders. “Different video, maybe?”Harry shook his head distractedly, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Not his real dad, right?” “No, definitely not,” Louis assured him.“ _Daddy!_ ” the guy in the video whimpered after being spanked three more times.

“Huh.” Harry commented softly.

“ _Count them out,_ ” the man in the video instructed.“ _Okay,_ ” the younger one gasped.“ _Okay who_?”“ _Okay Daddy!_ ” he squealed as he was hit again. “ _One!_ ” Slap. “ _Two._ ” Slap. “ _Th- three!_ ” “His skin's getting pink.” Harry commented. “Looks good.”

“Yeah?”

“Not as good as your butt,” Harry added. “Your butt's out of this world.”

“ _Merci_ ,” Louis said, always surprised when Harry spoke so frankly like that.

Harry spoke hesitantly. “Your butt might look good all pink like that.”

“Mine?” Louis asked, half pondering the thought himself.

“Second time today!” Harry scolded, giving his hips a quick shuffle against Louis' erection. “You in love with this couch or something?”

“No, I'm-” and Louis definitely hadn't been about to say, _I'm in love with you,_ when the guy in the video interrupted him anyway;

“ _Yes, Daddy, yes!_ ”Harry got up off Louis' lap, crawling backwards a fraction down the couch. “You ditched me here this morning.”

“I had a meeting,” Louis protested.

“You owe me. I get to play, with...” Harry pointed.

“Say it,” Louis encouraged.

“Your penis,” Harry hissed.

Louis nodded at him in approval.

Harry looked at Louis in resignation. “Your willy,” he went on, teasing. “Your wiener. Your stiffy.”

“My dingaling.” Louis laughed.“Your pants snake.”“My crotch sausage.”“Your underpants hose.”“ _Underpants hose?_ ” Louis repeated. “That's not a thing.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said sarcastically. “Guess I won't be touching it then.” “Oh, _please_ do.” Louis gave a pout.Harry nodded.Louis happily wiggled his pants down to his knees.

Harry leant down over Louis, wrapping his mouth around Louis' cock, sucking tight for a split second. He pulled up quickly again, regret on his face. “Sorry, I can't see the video.”

“It's fine,” Louis assured him. “Watch.”

Harry shifted his body a bit, keeping one hand on Louis as he faced the screen. He began to stroke tightly at Louis' cock, watching the guy in the video starting to really go for it.

“Ouch?” Harry questioned.“Yeah, it would hurt quite a bit, when he's hitting that hard. In a good way, I guess.”

“But Lou, he's _crying_ , look,” Harry said, sounding so sweet and sympathetic, an odd contrast to his hand firmly tugging on Louis' dick.

“Happy tears,” Louis promised, having to concentrate on speaking properly. “I guess he's a bit overwhelmed, in a good way.”

Harry's mouth turned down a little, but more in acknowledgment than displeasure.

The video finished rather abruptly. Harry's hand stilled.

“They don't show it, but they'd do other stuff after that,” Louis quickly explained.

“Sex?”

“Well, maybe. But I meant like... If it was a real couple, not actors? They'd probably want to have a cuddle or a cup of tea together, something to calm down again, you know?”

“Mm-hm,” Harry said, scratching his nose.

“Another video?” Louis offered.

Harry hesitated, looking down at his hands. “I think I sort of get it now.”

Louis sighed. “You want to hit me, don't you?”

“Not if you don't want to,” Harry sulked, understandably put off by Louis' tone.

“Harry,” Louis said, holding the boy's chin between his thumb and fingers. “I'm going to speak to you right now like you're mature and intelligent, because you are.”

“All right.”“I've never had anyone spank me, because it's not really my cup of tea. I'm not turned off by it or scared of it though, so I'm happy to give you a go on my ass.”Harry shook his head.“ _Non_ , listen, I'm really happy to give it a go with you. I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to let you.” “No one's ever done it to you?” Harry confirmed.“Nope.”“You mean I'd be the first?” Harry's face it up.Louis hadn't thought about it like that. “Yeah, you would be.”“Oh, we've _got_ to do it,” Harry breathed out.

Louis checked the time. “Listen. We've got an event tonight, and we need to get clothes for it. You've barely touched your lunch. So we do this, there'll be time for a _quick_ cuddle, and then we've got to get a move on, promise? If you don't want to be rushing after it, we can try later.”

“Now,” Harry said, determined. “Like, right now, before I change my mind.” “All right,” Louis said, standing.

Louis took his pants off completely and folded them, placing them on the couch cushion. Surveying the scene in front of him, he decided the easiest thing would be to stand at the end of the couch and bend over the armrest. He did just that, leaning up on his elbows just like he had in the bathroom. It felt utterly absurd, and he was still half-hard with no relief in sight and, god, if him and Harry were still good friends in ten years Louis was going to count up all the times Harry had left him high and dry and make him even the score.

Today, however, Harry was sweet and sixteen and he could do what he wanted. It would give Louis some time to think about what colour scheme he should dress the two of them in tonight.

Harry's hand rested on one of Louis' ass cheeks.

Louis kind of couldn't believe he was going to let Harry do this. If anyone, absolutely _anyone_ were to walk in he'd have to kill them instantly; Harry's age aside there could still be no witnesses to this. This wasn't Louis, see. He needed to be powerful, needed to be in control, couldn't have anyone see him as someone they were allowed to hit. Oh, no.

Harry's hand began to run over Louis' ass, stroking it, kind of warming the skin up.

Louis wasn't going to dress either of them in Fendi. It was terrible manners to not wear the designer, but Louis didn't care. For red-carpet events, he much preferred independent designers, but he wasn't overly familiar with the boutique situation in Vegas – if there was one at all. He'd have to settle for something bigger – probably Burberry. Harry looked good in Burberry.

“Start off gently,” Louis heard Harry quietly remind himself. “Please,” Louis confirmed.

He'd have to actually to shop for Eleanor at the event. To be convincing, she'd have to be seen in some Fendi soon after. It'd be a happy marriage though, Eleanor was kind of tacky - just like Fendi.

Harry's hand fell down in nothing harder than a firm pat. Louis snorted softly and Harry giggled too.

“Just do it, love,” Louis encouraged. “Go for it.”

Louis should give Zayn a call, actually, there'd be a good chance he was coming over for the event, as far as Louis knew the weather was fine to fly out of LA. Come to think of it, Zayn might actually be _in_ the show. There was singing in the show too, maybe even Little Mix would be in it. After the awkward party in Hollywood it might be nice to get Zayn and Perrie and Harry together again, try to make a better second impression than the first.

If Zayn was in the show it would be pretty rude to not wear Fendi, though. Yes, Louis should call him before he went shopping. Harry better hurry up and hit him soon because he'd need twice as long in Fendi trying to find something wearable. He just _really_ wasn't keen on the Fendi color scheme, see, what Burberry consistently did -

Harry's hand fell onto Louis' ass cheek, this time with a small slapping sound. Louis' skin prickled ever so faintly where Harry had hit, and it was a nice feeling for a split second but then Harry rubbed his hand over Louis' skin and the sensation was gone.

Louis realised that Harry was completely in control of every little thing Louis was about to feel. _Merde._

“Was that okay?” Harry checked.

Louis didn't know what to say. He couldn't even open his mouth.

“...Lou?” Harry hesitated.

“Again,” Louis managed to hoarsely whisper.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _sure_ -”

“Again, again,” Louis pleaded, and how the _fuck_ had he and Harry suddenly completely swapped roles?

Harry spanked Louis again, no harder than his first hit. It was still electric, Louis jutted his hips into the couch and Jesus, he realised he had rapidly gotten rock hard.

“My hand tingles a bit,” Harry said.“In a bad way?” Louis checked frantically. Frantic, because – _please don't be in a bad way, please be okay, please hit me again._

“No,” Harry said, and without warning slapped Louis again, a little harder. He laughed a little. “Tingly!” He hit Louis again.

Louis' _eyes_ were tingling, he felt frustrated and pathetic - in a really brilliant way. Draped over a couch like this was not how he'd ever wanted anyone to see him before, but he wanted to be like this for Harry, kind of wanted Harry to shove Louis' face down into the couch cushions and completely destroy his ass.

Harry hit again, a bit harder. “Gosh, was that too-?”

He'd slapped a little bit of Louis' mind out as well, and it took a beat for Louis to realise he'd been asked a question. “No, it was fucking perfect. You can go harder,” he pleaded, trying to push his ass up.

When he felt Harry's hand leave his skin again, his whole body tensed up, waiting for it. Harry waited too.

“Harry,” Louis croaked out. “ _Please_.”“In French.”“What?” Louis asked.“Say it in French,” Harry demanded.“S'il te - fuck – s'il te _fucking plait,_ Harry!”

Harry's hand fell down sharp, hitting Louis hardest yet. A little more of Louis was pushed out of himself, like his brain was just starting to float off into another world. The only thing that kept him in the room was Harry's hand, big and hot, hitting him _hard but not hard enough_ and making his skin feel like teeny-tiny red-hot bubbles were popping all over it.

“Thought you didn't like being hit,” Harry commented, absurdly casual. His hand fell again, quite a loud crack sounding out. “Why'd you say that?” _Slap._ “Explain it to me?”

“I didn't know!” Louis gasped out, feeling frantic like he had to get Harry to understand. “I don't - ” _slap_ \- “Don't like not being in control because... because I...”

 _Slap._ “You what?” Harry asked, gently running his palm over Louis' skin, soothing where it was hot and stinging.

“I don't trust anyone!” Louis gasped out, starting to feel indescribably emotional. _Smack._ "Anyone?”“You,” Louis groaned – he was _not_ tearing up, he wasn't one to do that. “I trust you!” “Merci,” Harry hummed happily, again gently stroking Louis' skin, re-soothing it.

“Are you okay?” Harry then asked carefully. Louis felt him lean forward a little so he turned around – he couldn't believe the sight of Harry. The kid was standing there in pyjamas, _flannel pyjamas with frogs on them_ , gently rubbing his hands together, soothing his own minor pain. “Lou, you're-”

“I'm really good,” Louis stressed. “Please, don't stop.”

Louis turned back around and buried his face into the couch cushions, completely bent over and exposed. Harry rested his hand back on Louis' behind.

“Keep going?” Harry confirmed, sounding a little unsure. “Oui. If you want to, I mean.”

“I do.” Harry lifted his hand up – Louis felt his whole body automatically tighten up in preparation.

Harry's hand crashed down _on the other side of Louis' ass_ , completely surprising him. Louis screamed, pushing his mouth harder into the cushion in front of him. He didn't understand what was going on with his body, he'd definitely never felt it before, but what was going on his brain was also new and very, very beautiful.

Louis felt muffled, like he was wrapped up safe and the one thing between him and the outside world was Harry, and Harry would keep the outside world away for as long as Louis needed.

Harry's hand hit Louis again, a strong, quick clap that shocked his skin and made his brain a little hazier. His skin _hurt_ and all he wanted was Harry's hand to hit it again, hurt him more. Harry did just that, _smack, smack, smack_ , keeping a steady pace but getting harder and harder with his slaps.

Louis was lost – so lost in Harry and Harry's big strong hands – that he didn't feel it building, didn't even notice until it just happened. He _came_ , hard, tensed up and sobbing and spurting all over the side of the couch.

Louis hid his face as he caught his breath, unable to silence his own whimpers.“Louis,” Harry sighed ever so fondly. He knew to stop spanking Louis – and it couldn't have been because he was sick of doing it, it was because it was what Louis needed _._ Harry knew what Louis needed.

Harry bent down behind Louis, placed a gentle kiss on each cheek – which was soft and sweet but Louis' flesh was still hot and tender and it just made him whimper louder.

“Do you want to get up?” Harry asked gently.

Louis nodded, then quickly realised it was his very own body slumped over the couch, he was the one who had to get himself up. He pushed up off his arms and stood, the pressure of being vertical again making his ass throb.

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis, ducking his head under one of Louis' armpits and peering up at him. “Your bum's pink, and it looks nice,” Harry informed him.

Louis could only nod his head.“Do you want to – what did you say people do? Cuddle, and make a cup of tea?”

Louis was love-them-and-leave-them. Louis was one night stands and, ' _It's fine, I don't need your number._ ' Louis was sneaking-out-before-the-sun-rose to avoid awkward morning pillow talk. He was definitely not cuddles and tea. Not in a million years.

Louis nodded. “Is there even a kettle here?” he said, surprised by how meek his voice was. “Yeah, in the kitchen. Duh.” Harry said gently. “Do you want to wait in bed?”

“I can make tea,” Louis dismissed, but Harry was the sweetest thing in the world for offering. He made a move to go to the kitchen, but Harry's arms kept him in place.

“Lou,” Harry said slowly.

“Oui mon petit?”

“The _couch_ ,” Harry whispered reproachfully.

“ _Putain_.” Louis' come was already half-soaked into the armrest of the couch. “Fuck, I don't know. I'll deal with it later.”

Harry walked with him to the kitchen, watching Louis brew two cups of tea. Well, Louis was pretty sure Harry was just looking at his ass.

They both curled up in bed together, each wrapping their hands around a hot cup, Harry curled up into Louis' side.

“Doesn't it hurt where you're sitting?” Harry asked curiously, taking a sip of tea. He made a face. “Needs sugar.”

“No,” Louis said sternly. “You Americans ruin everything with too much sugar. Drink it like that, it's better. And – yes, it hurts. It's nice. Like I can still feel you.”

Harry smiled up at Louis. “I can feel it too. This cup feels like, extra hot in my hand.”

Louis carefully leant over to kiss Harry on his warm lips, then set his own mug aside. “I want to talk to you about what we just did but, I'm a bit – fuzzy right now.”

“It's okay.” Harry smiled. “We'll talk later. Are we still going out tonight?”Louis moaned, sinking down into the bed. “I don't wanna go. Not to a stupid Fendi event.” “Well, let's not go,” Harry said simply.“We have to.” Louis sighed. “And we need outfits from Burberry. I don't wanna shop.”

Harry set his own cup down too, looking right at Louis. “ _You_ don't want shop? Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm good,” Louis said, hiding his face in Harry's side. “Don't lie to me,” Harry urged.

“I'm not,” Louis promised, “I'm maybe better than I've ever been before. I just don't want to shop right now.”

“I can go.” Harry offered brightly. “No, it's okay.”

“I can go!” Harry insisted. “I did Dolce & Gabbana by myself, in New York, remember? The people working there basically chose everything.”

Louis considered it. Burberry staff were very good, and - Louis kind of wanted to take a nap, or just curl up into a ball and press his hands against his ass while the skin was still hot and tender.

“You call me when you get there, okay? With the camera thing.” “Face time,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, that. You don't make the final decision, okay? I do. I have to approve of everything you buy.”

“Fine.” Harry laughed. “I don't really know what to chose anyway.”

“No, no, this is stupid. I'll go,” Louis said, starting to sit up. Harry pushed him back down, pulling the covers up over him.

He looked at Louis. “You said you don't like not being in control. Because you don't trust anyone. But you trust me.”

“Yes,” Louis said slowly, shy. Had he really said that? Out loud?“So let me go to Blueberry!” Harry insisted.Louis dissolved into laughter. Of course Harry would have him feeling human again. “ _Bur_ berry,” Louis corrected him. “Please commit that to memory.”

“Burberry!” Harry repeated, mimicking Louis' accent. “Get me the address then. I'll get the front desk to call me a taxi. And when I'm back, first thing I'll do is pop into bed with you and wake you up with a cuddle.”

“No,” Louis said firmly. “No?”

“First thing you'll do is hang the new clothes up. Properly. Not the plastic hangers from the hotel room, my wooden ones.”

Harry gently clapped Louis over the head. “Right.” He stood up and started getting dressed, holding up pants and a shirt for Louis' approval.

“No, not a brown shirt. Find a black one... There you go.”

“Louis?” Harry said while buttoning up a black shirt. “You're a bit... different.” “I'm tired. And something else,” Louis tried to explain. How could he explain it?

“I feel a bit different too.” Harry admitted. “But you'll be back to normal tonight, yeah? You'll take care of me at the show?”

“Of course, mon petit.” Louis said confidently. “Come give me a kiss before you go.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Burberry wasn't quite what Harry was expecting. More formal and private than Dolce & Gabanna in New York, it looked more like an office from the outside than a shop. Harry had to press a buzzer to be let in.

“Burberry Las Vegas,” a British accent crackled out, as if Harry didn't know where he was. “Um, hi. I'm Harry Styles.”“Do you have an appointment?”“I don't know, I-”

The voice cut him off. “My apologies, we can't take anyone without an appointment today.” If they turned him away, he'd be screwed. Louis would never trust him with anything again.

 “Louis Tomlinson sent me,” Harry quickly tried. The locked door clicked open instantly.

Harry pushed it open and peered inside. A thin girl in high heels was walking brusquely towards him, a smile on her face. She was dressed very well with a full face of makeup, and Harry couldn't quite guess her age.

“Bonjour, ça va? Comment tu t'appelles?”“Em...” Frick. Harry wasn't sure what to do. He should have just let Louis come too.

“C'est toi Harry, oui?” the girl breezed on, oblivious to Harry's balking. “Moi c’est Hannah.” Her accent wasn't nearly as thick as Louis', and Harry could make out his own name, but that didn't help with much else.

“Sorry, I don't speak French?” he tried.

To Harry's relief, she immediately responded in English. “Oh, that's fine! I said I'm Hannah. You're Harry, yes?”

Harry nodded.

“My French isn't very good anyway,” she admitted. “I just thought since you're with Louis Tomlinson...”

“We speak English. I think all he does in French is swear,” Harry joked, following the girl through the office space. “I'm not picking up much else.”

“Oh, really! Swearing in French!” the girl cried out, delighted. “Look-” her eyes darted around for a second before she quickly pushed him through a nearby door. “What else is he like?” she asked, hushed. “Do you see much of him?”

“Um...” Harry stalled, wriggling the fingers of his still-tender hand. See much of him?

“I mean, I've _seen_ him before,” she said, voice still quiet, “but I've never gotten a chance to actually talk to him.”

“Oh. I mean... we talk every day,” Harry started cautiously. _We kiss every day._ __“Oh my God!” The girl said, giving Harry a punch on the shoulder. “You're so lucky! Is he brilliant? He's brilliant, isn't he?”

Louis was brilliant, all right.

“I'm sorry,” the girl said, cringing at the silence. “God, I'm so embarrassing. At least he sent you instead of coming in here himself. I wouldn't have been able to even _talk_ to him.” She pulled Harry back out of the room and lead him further through the building. “So why'd he send you? Is he like, your style sensei? Taking you under his wing?”

“No, I don't do fashion stuff. I just came as a favour because he wanted to stay back at the hotel.”

“Wow.” She was impressed. “You must have a good eye though, if he's trusting you to dress him.”

“I don't think I do,” Harry said honestly. “You've gotta help me pick outfits, please?”

She gave Harry the biggest smile he'd possibly ever seen in his life. “Of course I will. Did you want some champagne?”

“I'm sixteen,” Harry informed her.

She just looked at him. “And I'm nineteen. This isn't a bar, it's a showroom. You've never done this before?”

“I went to Dolce and Gabanna in New York,” Harry defended himself.

“Hmm.” Hannah looked down her nose, smug. “All _our_ VIP customers get offered champagne while they're selecting garments.”

VIP. Wow.“Okay,” Harry agreed, smiling. “Let's have champagne.”

Not long after, Harry was settled on a very firm couch, his first flute of champagne already finished. Hannah had pulled in several racks of clothes, but then she had just perched herself up on the armrest of the couch and reached for the champagne bottle. “You don't mind me being a little bit cheeky on the job, do you Harry?” She took a sip straight out of it.

“You're buying for that Fendi show's opening night?” she guessed.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, then furrowed his brow. After a glass of champagne he was feeling too bubbly to know how much he was supposed to tell this girl. Oh well. He took a sip straight from the bottle too.

“I can't believe you're not wearing Fendi!” Hannah said, mouth opening and nose scrunching in delighted shock. “Louis Tomlinson is so daring. He's revolutionary. I'll be at the event!” she continued. “Except I'll be on, like, 'faceless nobody getting drinks for the boss' duty. Boring as fuck. Look, I'm not supposed to know this...” She got off the armrest of the couch and sat on the seat by Harry. “Because it's supposed to be a big surprise. Okay, okay, I'll tell you; I overheard that Zayn Malik's in the show! _Zayn Malik!_ ”

“Manwhore,” Harry muttered, forgetting for a moment that he didn't swear, especially not that badly. He took another big swig of champagne.

Hannah's eye's widened, scooting even closer as she took the bottle back for her turn. “What?”

“That was rude of me. Zayn's pretty nice. Really nice, I guess,” Harry said truthfully. “I just... don't like him.”

“You've met him!?”“Went to a party at his place in LA.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut _up!_ ” the girl squealed. “That's so cool. You don't like him? Why not?” She was _delighted_ , almost salivating at the opportunity for the scoop.

Harry _knew_ he was talking too much, but the champagne had him feeling all swoopy and relaxed and kind of warm and he couldn't keep his mouth shut. No one had ever quite shown this type of interest in Harry, impressed with him and his connections, like he was an insider who had a value beyond obeying every last thing his parents and pastor had drilled into him.

Louis treated Harry like he was very special, yes, but he wasn't very exactly dead impressed by Harry like this girl was. Between Harry and Louis, Louis was the one with all the worldly experience.

It seemed in this room, however, Harry had the upper hand. He had something to give purely from his own experiences.

Harry leant in closer, playing up the secrecy a little. “Okay, so, him and his girlfriend-”

“The one from Little Mix?!”

“Mm-hm. Asked Louis to have a threesome with them.”

“ _Ménage à trois!_ ” Hannah shimmied her shoulders. “That's so hot. They're all so hot.”

“They didn't actually do it!” Harry rushed to defend, taking another sip – but between their efforts, the bottle was empty. He passed it back over.

“Why _not?_ ” Hannah asked, incredulous, as she threw the bottle into a bin and pulled out a new one, popping the cork. She seemed to be holding her alcohol a lot better than Harry was, but he didn't stop her. “That's like-”

“He had someone better to be with that night.” Harry said proudly.

 _Oops_.

Harry clamped a hand over his mouth - the champagne had made him a bit uncoordinated, and he felt his nose being squashed under his fingers.

Hannah stood there, a curl of vapour escaping the neck of the bottle, otherwise completely still. Without taking his hand away, Harry started to shake his head, horrified.She slowly started nodding, and raised her free hand to point at Harry. “ _You!_ ” she gasped. “No it wasn't!” Harry really wasn't good at lying.

“Was too you.”

“You can't tell anyone!” Harry pleaded.

“Was it just a one-time thing, or?”

Harry didn't know what was a better option, but Hannah jumped on his silence. “Oh my _God_ , what are you, a secret item?!”

“Seriously, you can't tell anyone,” Harry begged.

“Of course not,” the girl said, but Harry wasn't sure if he believed her. Harry knew it wasn't right to judge people, but – it was more of an observation, really - she seemed like a terrible gossip.

“Please. You really, really can't. Not a single soul. No one knows I'm – I mean - I'll do anything.” Hannah fixed her eyes on Harry as she took a swig of champagne.

“Louis wanted me to facetime him from here so he could pick the clothes,” Harry quickly tried. “What if we didn't call him? What if I let you pick out the clothes, and I tell him it was you, and he gets to see how good you are at it?” _Please be good at it,_ Harry silently prayed. “You've got a business card, right?”

He felt his stomach churn – it was possibly an absolutely terrible idea to buy clothes without consulting Louis – but the girl's mouth was twisting as she weighed up her options. She was at least entertaining Harry's bargain.

“Louis could make or break you,” Harry said boldly, not knowing if that was remotely true. “And – and... they're going to put footage from tonight onto the show I'm on. CNTV network. It's being aired in like, seven countries a the moment. You'd get a _wardrobe credit_ on an international television show. But if you tell anyone about me and Louis, we'll know. Louis could tell everyone he knows not to work with you, if you tell a single soul about... me.”

The girl let out a whine, dropping her shoulders. “Can't I just tell-”

“ _No,_ ” Harry said firmly, taking the champagne out of her hand and taking another big sip himself. “You can't tell anyone.”

Hannah looked like she might be weakening.

“I can post an instagram, right now!” Harry coaxed. “I've got like, three million followers or something ridiculous like that. You and me at Burberry. Put a face to your name and everything. Do you want to be the girl who's on 'getting drinks for the bosses' duty tonight? Or do you want to be the girl who _dressed Louis Tomlinson_ for a red carpet event?”

“All right.” Hannah finally nodded in agreement. “But you've got to introduce me to Louis tonight. Zayn Malik too.”

“Fine.” Harry agreed. Talking to Zayn would be awkward... but a rumour about Harry would be worse.

A rumour about Harry and Louis would be a _lot_ worse.

“Let's find you both some clothes,” Hannah said, getting up to the clothes racks. “So...” She paused, eyes flicking over to Harry as a smirk crossed her face. “Is he into anything weird that he makes you do in bed?”

“Not telling,” Harry said quickly.

In all the fuss, Harry had forgotten to explain to her that he wasn't actually gay.

\-----

Louis felt anxiety in his chest when the bedroom door swung open, waking him up. He couldn't quite place it until, _putain_ – Harry was back from Burberry. He hadn't even sent one text while he was there.

“Harry?” Louis asked, sitting up in bed and clicking on the light. His ass was still a bit sore, the ghost of being spanked only hours earlier.

Jesus. Harry had _spanked him._

“I'm just g- _whoop!_ ” Harry tripped over his own feet, falling over in the doorway. Several tan- colored Burberry shopping bags landed around him, confirming he had indeed purchased clothes without consulting Louis.

If Harry thought he was sweet for not calling Louis from Burberry, he was a fucking idiot.

“Careful, clumsy.” Louis sighed, getting out of bed. He came around and held out a hand to help Harry up.

Harry reached to grab Louis' hand - and missed.

He peered at his own hand curiously, apparently surprised it wasn't wrapped around Louis'.

“Have you been drinking?” Louis looked at Harry closely.

Louis' sentence took a good three seconds to click over before Harry let out a very loud, childlike, “No!” which he followed up with, “Shh. I don't drunk. It's a sin.”

“You don't _drink_.” Louis sighed. _Merde, merde, merde_.“French man correcting my English!” Harry's head was tipping about. “Never thought I'd see the day.”“Fuck, Harry.” Louis tried to keep his voice steady, annoyed because Harry was more than just a

little tipsy. “ _C'est quoi ce bordel? As-tu perdu la tête?_ You're fucking drunk!”Harry gasped in mock-horror. “You can't swear, Louis, swearing is _so bad._ It's a sin.”

“You didn't call me!” Louis scolded angrily, gesturing at the bags around Harry. “What the fuck did you even bring back?!”

“Well for one,” Harry retorted smugly, lying back on the floor and shutting his eyes, “I got cut- offs of _five_ different blue fabrics so we can fix up the couch that you found it so pernin – perniten– pertiten – _important_ to splooge all over. I looked at it when I came in; you're no Jackson Pollock. You can sew though, can't you?”

Well.

The little boy from Texas knew Pollock.

“Hannah from Burberry loooooves me,” Harry went on, slurring to himself with his eyes still shut. He seemed to have forgotten Louis was even in the room. “Louis is going to tell her boss that she got us good outfits and then she can get a promotion and then she won't tell anyone that I like Louis. That I _like_ like him.”

Well.The little boy from Texas, well, he -

“And his _thing!_ ” Harry blabbed on, opening his eyes as wonder took over his face. “I like his thing, and his bum. Ooh, his bum!”

_Well._

“Hannah knows!” Harry threw a Burberry bag up in the air, expressing some emotion that Louis couldn't pinpoint through Harry's inebriation. A tissue-paper-wrapped garment fell out and hit Harry on the face.

“Why would you hurt me, Blueberry?” Harry asked softly, plucking it off his face and setting it aside, immediately forgetting about it.

Through his irritation, Louis fought off a smile. Harry wasn't adorable, he was an idiot. An adorable idiot, perhaps. A really adorable drunk idiot.

“Hannah knows about Louis and me. _Louis. Et. Moi!_ ” Harry emphasised, pointing at his own chest.

Louis made a mental note to later tell a sober Harry that you don't pronounce the 't'.“ _Me!_ ” Harry suddenly wailed, his face crumpling into tears. “I like a boy! I _like_ like him! And he's _so old!_ ”

“I'm not _old_.” Louis sternly interrupted Harry's monologue. Harry startled, fixing his eyes on Louis as he blinked away tears. “I'm... not old,” Louis repeated, a little self-conscious under Harry's gaze.

“Shhh.” Wide-eyed, Harry pressed a finger to his lips. “It's a secret. It's a secret th-”

“If it's a secret then don't tell me, mon petit,” Louis interrupted, kneeling down by Harry and having to actually still Harry's mouth with a finger. He half wanted to hear what Harry was about to say, but it wasn't fair to listen to Harry while he was in the state he was in. “You're drunk, Harry. Stop talking shit.”

Louis checked the time. They had to be leaving for the Fendi event in two hours – maybe they could stretch it to two and a half. Louis hoped Harry, in his very brief experience with alcohol, was just acting a lot more drunk than he really was.

He pulled Harry to sit up against the bed. “T'es _con._ Why were you drinking, in what universe was that appropriate?"

“I was greeted with champagne. I am a Blueberry VIP,” Harry defended himself proudly. He started to sing. “ _Champagne showers, champagne showers_... I don't know the rest of the words, I'm sorry Louis, I'm not supposed to listen to music about sex and alcohol, I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine. You don't have to sing.” Louis grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and gave both to Harry. “Drink up. Look at me. You need to act sober, okay? Focus.”

\-----

Harry was feeling a lot steadier, and quite embarrassed. Louis had retrieved the leftover pizza from the fridge and made him eat four slices, cold, as well as a very strong coffee that he refused to let Harry put sugar or extra water in. Harry had protested, “No one in America drinks coffee like this, Louis!”

Louis had fired back smugly, “I thought we were moving to Europe together, _mon beau petit- ami?_ You're going to have to learn to love it.” He said it like it was a joke, but it still made Harry's heart glow for a second. Harry drank the coffee and tried to enjoy it.

Harry felt like he couldn't properly recall the last half hour at Burberry, or the last hour in the suite. It was like his brain hadn't bothered to remember it. A few words drifted around in the back of his mind but Harry didn't let himself focus on them, like a tickle he was refusing to scratch.

“Let's see what you've got then.” Louis grimaced, bringing the bags out to the kitchen floor. He unwrapped the clothes gingerly, as if he was handling a land mine.

Hannah had picked three shirts for Louis chose from: a very simple black one, a crisp white one (“Peter pan collar,” Louis commented softly. “Cute.”) and a white one that was speckled with tiny multi coloured flecks. There were a few pairs of suit pants (that all looked identical to Harry, but Louis spent several minutes deliberating over each pair), as well as a more casual fitted pair, and a few different blazers. Louis nodded happily at one with very thin lapels.

“Suit pants, you reckon?” Louis asked Harry. Harry first thought Louis was just humouring him, but when he glanced up, Louis was actually looking right at him, waiting for an answer.

“I think the tighter ones,” Harry suggested, instantly feeling himself blush a little. “You don't think I'm too fat for them? Now that all I eat is crap with you?”

“You had a salad for lunch,” Harry pointed out. He had to look away from Louis when he added, “and you have like, really nice thighs.”

Louis' ears might have turned a bit pink too.

Louis stood back, assessing his options. “You're lucky. You didn't do half bad.”

“It was all Hannah,” Harry stressed. “And you really need to, like, make all her dreams come true or something so she doesn't tell anyone that I-” Harry was starting to get really scared now he had sobered up. He was pretty sure he'd said some really dumb things to the girl at Burberry. “Lou,” he pleaded softly. “She knows that I was drinking, and... stuff.”

“Stuff,” Louis echoed quietly.“Stuff about me.” Harry heard his voice come out a little high.

Louis hung the clothes over a chair and walked over to where Harry was sat at the kitchen bench. He wrapped his arms around Harry from behind and squeezed extra-tight.

Harry felt a little better, like Louis was pushing his worries out. “Mon petit, I'll sort something out, okay? If there's one thing I know, it's how to work the people in this industry.” He kissed the top of Harry's head.

“I didn't tell her that I'm not gay,” Harry explained softly, glad that he couldn't see Louis' face and Louis couldn't see his.

“Mm-hm?” Louis hummed, lips still pressed into Harry's curls.

“I didn't say I am, or anything,” he added quickly. “She just guessed that we'd done stuff, and I forgot to tell her that I'm not gay. Oh, God...”

Louis offered Harry a way out. “You were kind of drunk.”“Yep,” Harry agreed, and shook Louis' arms off him. “Go look at what I got for myself.”

Louis started unwrapping clothes, and when Harry recognised a particular fabric he jumped in quickly; “That one, I picked myself. Hannah put in a few other shirts in case you don't like it.”

Louis held up the shirt, which was black silk covered in white hearts. He then turned himself around to hold it up to Harry, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It's... bold.”

“You don't think I should wear it?” Harry asked apologetically.“No, you can, you can,” Louis mused. “You're sure you want to? It's just a little - I just thought

 _you'd_ say it was... _tapette_ -y,” he finished apologetically.Harry didn't ask for a translation, figuring Louis was hiding behind his French.“I like the hearts. It's like, love,” Harry explained. He'd picked the top for a reason, and he wasn't

actually doubting his choice. “Love's the best thing in the world. It's more important than anything.”

Louis' gaze left the shirt and fixed straight on Harry's, his eyes blue and intense. “More important than anything?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“More important than rules someone's made up?” And it was like it was a genuine question.

Harry felt a bit hot. “Um.. yes. If they're stupid rules. And if it's real love.”

Harry wished he could squirm away, but he was pinned between the chair and Louis' hands still holding the shirt up. “ _Amore_ , right?” he tried, needing to fill the air.

“ _Amour_.” Louis laughed, turning to get a hanger for the shirt. Harry breathed out. “ _Amore_ is Italian. You're going to look incredible in this shirt.”

“I can wear it, then?”

“Absolutely!” Louis beamed. His spontaneity was lost in the need to button the shirt over the hanger and hook it over a nearby doorknob, but _then_ he leapt over to Harry, cradling Harry's heads in his small hands. He gave Harry a firm kiss.

“And then we'll come home for Prada sweater time, yes?” Harry asked.

Without letting his hands drop, Louis turned his head into his shoulder, but he hadn't been quick enough; Harry caught his crinkly-eyed smile. “You're going to rip holes in that thing if you keep wearing it so often.”

“Good,” Harry said, glad Louis was still looking away. “Then you can rip it right off me.”

\-----

Punching Patrick Demarchelier in the face was definitely not a high point in Louis' fashion career.

Louis had never, ever disrespected Demarchelier before.He'd just politely declined to work with him on several occasions.

Louis had always possessed an excellent eye for new talent; independent designers, unsigned models, so on. Louis never doubted Demarchelier was brilliant. He just always had a list of at least five up-and-coming photographers that were just as brilliant too, with a fresher style.

Louis and Patrick Demarchelier had just never been good friends.

Running into Demarchelier was inevitable though, and they'd always both coped fine with it. They were both professionals, and obviously Demarchelier was already incredibly successful. He was at the top, and he'd been there a lot longer than Louis had. He didn't need any help, least of all from Louis.

He didn't need to be such a brat about not getting it, but.

There were plenty of people Louis didn't particularly want to see at the show's opening, though. Exes – well, more like former fucks - old bosses, former assistants, interns from years back who were now in high-power positions themselves. The ratio of steely greetings and cool cheek-kisses, to smiles and hugs, was significantly imbalanced.

No one was at all rude or unpleasant, though. It was just a side-effect of this industry; you ignored the hand rubbing you up the wrong way so you could produce the very best work with the most talented people.

That seemed to be what was going on at this event. Surely no one, absolutely _no one_ , respected Louis for unceremoniously dropping out of the industry to tour with an American TV show, but his talent seemed to outweigh his bold, impulsive choice, and people were still buttering him up.

Everyone acted nice, and everyone was a very good actor.

“Not sure about your fringe,” Louis murmured to Harry as they approached the media bank.

Harry instantly tipped his head forward, ruffled his hair up a bit and pushed it back to the side, looking at Louis for approval.

“Better,” Louis said. God, Harry had such nice curls. Harry beamed.

They must have posed for a hundred different photographers, Louis deigning to be filmed saying some very generous things about Fendi.

Harry stuck by Louis' side along the red carpet, politely introducing himself as “Harry Styles,” as he shook everyone's hand. He seemed nervous, quite often his fingers lightly tugged the elbow of Louis' jacket.

“Mon petit,” Louis whispered in Harry's ear. “If I could hold your hand right now – you know, if there wasn't so many photographers - I would.”

“I don't need you to,” Harry mumbled.“Well, maybe I need to,” Louis countered.Harry smiled, his dimple looking absolutely kissable. “I _might_ let you,” Harry teased.

“I might never let go.”

After a while they found the photographers that Jeremy had linked up with. Louis braced himself for another quick interview but the photographer said, “No, no, Mr Wash said we only need the boy.”

Harry instantly apologised to Louis.

“It's no big deal, love.” Louis smiled. “I'm going to go find your friend from Burberry.”

“You've g-”

“Yes,” Louis interrupted firmly, hyperaware that the cameras could be already rolling. “Don't worry. I'll see you inside.”

Zayn was indeed in the show, and if anyone could make Fendi look good, it was Zayn.

There was incredible clothes - art, really - and singing and dancing; Perrie and the rest of Little Mix really impressed Louis, singing incredibly well while nailing some complicated choreography. Perhaps not-coincidentally when Harry decided it was time to take a toilet break, there were even some bare breasts.

“Louis,” Harry whispered a while after he'd returned. “This is really boring.”

“Shh,” Louis gently whispered back. He was enjoying it, but he could understand why Harry wasn't.

After a few more minutes, the soft light of Harry's phone caught Louis' eye. Without saying a word, Louis plucked it out Harry's hand and slid it into his blazer pocket.

Harry slumped down in his seat, huffing.

“Sit up straight,” Louis said.

He wasn't parenting Harry. Not exactly. He was just... teaching him how to behave at events.

Harry didn't sit up, and five minutes later he yawned and gave two soft kicks to the seat in front of him.

Louis gave his own swift kick to Harry's ankle. “ _Arrête._ Stop that.”Harry sat still again, but after a few minutes he sighed, “So bored. This is dumb,” under his breath. Louis ignored him.Then Louis heard a slow ripping sound – Harry was tearing his programme up in a spiral.

Louis whipped around to put his mouth right by Harry's ear, snatched the programme out of his hand and hissed, “If you fucking _behave_ , I'll give you a blowjob as soon as the show's over, you little shit.”

For the rest of the show, Harry's posture rivalled that of a ballerina. Louis was proud, because once Harry was paying proper attention he actually appreciated the show, laughing at the jokes and smiling at the clothes coming out.

Louis, however, lost his focus. His eyes kept flicking down to the erection Harry was sporting. Hopefully he'd relax before the theatre lights went up.

\-----

When the show finished, Louis grabbed Harry's hand – tighter than might have been necessary - and lead him backstage. A girl with a clipboard at the door just happily cried, “Louis!” and let them both in without checking her list.

Zayn was sitting at a dressing table, spying Louis through the mirror in front of him and turning around. “Tommo!” He stood to give Louis a hug. “All right, Harry?”

“Um. You were really good in the show,” Harry said awkwardly. “And, like... thanks for inviting me to your party the other night.”

“No problem,” Zayn said. “It's good to see you, bro.”

After some banter that mostly went above Harry's head, Louis asked, “Afterparty?”

“Official, or?” Zayn asked.

Louis rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”

“We'll be doing something in mine and Perrie's suite. I'll text you the details,” Zayn said. “I've got to make an appearance at the official one first, of course.”

“Can my friend Hannah come? To your suite?” Harry blurted out quickly. Zayn looked a bit surprised. “She your age?”“No, she's nineteen. She works at Burberry.”Zayn looked over at Louis.

“She's a junior stylist. She's harmless,” Louis said. “Thing is, 'Arry here might owe her a few favours.”

“Well if it's for Harry, then of course,” Zayn said, tongue-in-cheek, but Harry appreciated it all the same. “You can pass the info on to her. I better go get changed.” Zayn gave Louis another hug, and to Harry's surprise, turned to give him a hug too.

Zayn was a good hugger.And he was, like, really _really_ good looking. For a guy, that is.

“Don't think I've forgotten about you,” Louis said to Harry, glancing around the room. “Ah, there we go.” He took Harry's hand up once more.

Harry would never stop melting at that contact, the way Louis' hands were kind of small for a grown man's, soft and cold with delicate fingers.

Louis pulled Harry across the room and pushed him out a heavy door into a dimly lit alleyway. The ground was littered in cigarette butts, but it didn't smell at all and with the Vegas climate, it was nice and dry.

Louis grabbed Harry's chin in one hand and the back of his hair in the other, kissing him passionately as he walked Harry backwards to lean against the wall. He tasted perfect, and so familiar now. Harry knew Louis' mouth, his soft lips, knew how his tongue moved, how Louis would whine if you nibbled his lower lip.

Harry parted his lips, letting his tongue meet Louis'.

Harry hoped he was a good kisser.

Louis was such a good kisser, Harry couldn't even explain it. It was like bright white lights were going off in Harry's belly and his dick and his chest – white lights that maybe looked a tiny little bit like the white pattern on the shirt Harry was wearing.

Harry had spent all night watching men and women schmooze up to Louis. Half the time they spoke in French. When they did speak in English, there'd been inside-jokes and ' _Remember when?_ 's and ' _I haven't seen you since..._ ' and Harry had felt very, very left out, like it was all a big joke that he'd slept by Louis' side for the better part of the past three weeks, like these were Louis' real friends -

But Louis was here, with Harry. It was Harry that Louis had dragged out the fire exit, Harry that Louis was framing against a brick wall, Harry who had Louis softly whimpering and jutting his hips up against him.

Louis' hand left Harry's chin and trailed down his shirt, gripping his pec for a minute as he thumbed over Harry's nipple, before sliding right down off the shirt to rest heavy over Harry's crotch.

“So hard already,” Louis said breathlessly, pressing kisses along Harry's neck. “You're fucking perfect, _mon dieu,_ you're all I want.”

Harry dropped his head to look at Louis' hand on him, Louis' lovely hand with its thin, skilled fingers, gripping and pushing at Harry's dick through his pants.

Louis nuzzled the top of Harry's curls, coaxing his head back up for more kisses. Then his hand swiftly undid Harry's belt. “Bet you're wet already.”

If the kissing hadn't done it, this bold talk definitely did; When Louis slid his hand into Harry's underwear, his fingertips immediately searched for the head of Harry's cock, sliding smooth over his leaking tip.

Louis grunted appreciatively, pulling his hand up to taste the precome on his fingers while looking straight into Harry's eyes.

Harry lifted his hips up off the wall, trying to find friction again, needing Louis.

The theatre's rear door swished open. Harry rushed to do his pants back up, fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar belt. Louis didn't step away from Harry, they were going to get caught because Louis wasn't stepping back. He stayed standing firm in front of Harry, his eyes at the man coming out the door.

“Patrick.” Louis nodded.

“Louis.” The man was older than Harry's father, and by the way he pronounced Louis' name, Harry guessed he was French too. The man blinked, and when his eyes opened again they were on Harry – who felt incredibly self conscious because he could feel his hair was messed up and his lips felt like he'd just been kissing so they might look it, too.

“ _Comment tu t'appelles?_ ” the man said softly, his eyes trailing down Harry's body and up again.

“Lou?” Harry asked uncertainly. He wasn't sure about the way the man was looking him up and down. Louis didn't answer, but he held his arm out across his body and rested his palm against Harry's hip, like he was trying to hide Harry from the man.

The man stepped into the alleyway, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“ _Est-ce que tu es aussi tendre que tes yeux verts?_ ” the man went on, slurring a little. He seemed drunk, and Harry really didn't like the way the man was leering at him.

“Lou,” Harry urged. “What's he saying?”“Don't worry, he's not talking to you,” Louis said, more to the man than Harry.“ _Il ne parle pas français?_ ” The man said to Louis, sounding delighted. “ _C’est quoi son nom?_ ” “Lou!” Harry urged. “What's-”

“Later, 'Arry,” Louis said sharply, turning back to the man. “ _Dégage et occupe-toi de tes affaires._ ” He hit an open palm against his fist – a slap echoing out that made Harry jump. Louis gestured at the door leading back to the theatre. “ _Mais casse-toi,_ ” he added, voice too calm.

Yikes. Harry knew that one; “Fuck off”.“ _Louis_ ,” Harry urged, tugging at Louis' sleeve. “What's going on?”

“I'm just telling Demarchelier here that we're busy, mon petit, it's fine,” Louis said quietly. “He's going to leave now.”

Except the man took a step forward instead. “ _La caméra va l’adorer_ ,” he mused, reaching a hand out to Harry.

" _Va te faire foutre!_ ” Louis yelled, roughly slapping the man's hand away before he could touch Harry's cheek.

“ _C’est ton garçon que je vais me faire,_ ” the man laughed. _Garçon._ They were talking about Harry.The man turned back to Harry. “ _T’aimes ça, quand ce mec te baise?_ ”

Harry didn't have time to ask for a translation. Louis had balled a fist up by his own shoulder and swung, punching the man right in the face. Harry heard a dull crunch and blood immediately began trickling out of the man's nose and down onto what looked like a very expensive shirt.

“ _Putain,_ ” Louis said through tight lips, holding his fist in his other hand.“Louis, what the hell did you do!?” Harry cried out. “Oh my G- oh no, oh no...”

“He knows he deserved it!” Louis yelled, giving another angry gesture. Harry saw Louis' knuckle had split and was bleeding a little bit too.

The theatre's back door swung open again. A model Harry recognised from the show stepped out, lighting a cigarette.

“Jourdan,” a panicked Louis greeted her.

The model looked at Louis, who was wringing his own fist, a grimace on his face. Her big brown eyes then went to the man, who was still bleeding, a hand over his nose. Harry couldn’t tell if he'd decided to shut up, or if he couldn't actually talk.

“It's about time someone did it,” she said steadily, exhaling smoke over her shoulder. “There's no cameras out in this alleyway, but you better get out of here. I'll deal with Patrick. Who's the kid with?”

“I'm not a-” Harry started, but Louis cut him off. “He's with me.”

The model stepped past both men to Harry. Between her height and her heels, she towered over him, but leant down to meet his eye. She smelled like fresh cigarette smoke and a musky, floral perfume. “Listen, kid. No matter who asks, you didn't see anything. You never came out here. All right?”“I can't lie! He's _hurt_!” Harry yelped, pointing at the man.

“He's fine,” she said, which wasn't true – Harry was pretty sure the man's nose was broken. “You two get out of here now.”

Louis came to Harry's side and tried to pick up Harry's hand.

Harry wrenched his arm away. “Louis, you can't just punch people and get away with it! We have to-”

“ _Ta gueule!_ ” Louis said, snatching Harry's hand back. “If you knew half the shit he'd said you would have punched him too."

“Will I see you at Zayn's?” the model quickly asked Louis, reaching out a delicate brown hand to straighten the lapel of his blazer.

“No,” Louis sighed, disappointed. “Don't really need anyone seeing my bleeding knuckles, lest they put two and two together.”

“Wise. I'll pass on your apologies.”

“There'll be a junior stylist from Burberry there, ah -” Louis looked at Harry.

“Hannah,” Harry said sullenly.

“It's very important she has a nice time,” Louis said.

“Absolutely. Hannah from Burberry,” the model echoed.

Louis turned to leave and the man spluttered, opening his mouth to talk. Louis whipped back around and yelled in English, “I will _end_ you, old man!” and then man closed his mouth again.

Louis didn't go back into the theatre, but rather lead Harry down the alley and onto a street, hailing a cab.

\-----

Harry had spent the twenty-minute cab ride staring at Louis in silence, eyes fearful – like he was afraid of Louis.

Louis didn't know what to say.

He could protect Harry from the shit Demarchelier said, but then he couldn't explain why he'd done what he had.

The elevator ride up to the suite was silent.

When they entered the suite, Harry immediately stormed off into the bedroom.

Frustrated, Louis flopped down onto the couch in the lounge, too shitty to care that his head was resting on his own dried come.

Louis heard the fridge's ice machine rattle.

Harry then came into the lounge with a plastic bag that he'd filled with ice and knotted up.

“Budge over,” Harry finally spoke, sitting down next to Louis on the couch. He held out his hand for Louis', gently placing the ice over his knuckles.

Only one free arm between them, Louis placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. “ _Merci, mon petit,_ ” he said softly, but he wasn't sure how to continue.

“You can't ever resort to violence,” Harry dictated, as if it was simple. “I don't care what that man said.”

“He was being so... rude to me,” Louis lied. His knuckles were soothed from the ice, Harry's warm hand just below Louis' fingers. Louis gave Harry's hand a squeeze, then winced, realising his knuckles were still sore.

“Don't lie,” Harry said softly. “Not to me. I understood _some_ of it. I mean, not much, but...” " _Mon garçon,_ " Louis said, his voice coming out as soft as Harry's. “ _T'es gentil, très gentil._ You're so sweet. You shouldn't have to hear someone talk about you like that."

For all his frustration at Harry's naivety, how he was sheltered, Louis still didn't want to be the one to expose Harry to this side of life. It was one thing to willingly corrupt the boy, when he was naked and whimpering and begging for Louis' touch. It was another thing to corrupt him by explaining to him that some people are disgusting, some people don't respect your boundaries, some people see you as an object or a pawn, that some people were just as bad as Harry was good.

“What did he say?” Harry asked, adjusting the ice over Louis' hand. “You don't want to know.”“No, I don't,” Harry admitted, “but I don't want us to have secrets either.”

“Me neither,” Louis agreed. “Okay. He asked me what your name was, and he said you had sweet green eyes. He asked you if you're as sweet as your eyes look.” Louis felt a little sick reliving it.

“It didn't seem like he was saying nice things.”

“He wasn't saying them in a nice way,” Louis explained. “Er - he thought it was funny that you didn't speak French. See, we've got a bit of history – nothing complicated, but nothing pleasant – so I politely told him to fuck off.”

“That's not polite,” Harry said under his breath.

“Then he said you looked like you'd be photogenic. He's a photographer, you see.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Um, I said 'fuck you',” Louis admitted, feeling far more guilty than he ever did about swearing. “And he said something back.”

“What?” Harry pressed. “Tell me what he said.”

“He said it's you he'll fuck,” Louis explained, feeling awful. Harry's face contorted in disgust, but he nodded at Louis to go on. So Louis did. “Then he asked you if you like the way I fuck you. So... I punched him.”

“Oh.” Harry looked crestfallen.

“Look, I'm really sorry I did that in front of you, Harry. The Modern Missionary doesn't need to be witnessing any assaults, does he?”

“No,” Harry said sadly.

“Come here – come - here.” Louis clumsily pulled Harry into his lap while Harry kept the ice pressed to Louis' knuckles. “There you go,” he breathed, feeling instantly better with the weight of Harry on him, Harry close enough for Louis to be in the thick of his sweet scent, mint and wheat and Chanel Allure.

Harry settled in, resting his ear on Louis' shoulder. Louis could feel Harry's soft warm breath on his neck.

“It's not fair if he's saying things you don't understand,” Louis reasoned. “You can't defend yourself.”

“You do that,” Harry pointed out. “You say stuff in French all the time.”

Oh.

“I didn't realise it was like that. I'm sorry,” Louis said, crestfallen.

“Oh, no! No, no, no.” Harry picked his head up, planting a kiss on Louis' cheek. “I love it when _you_ do it. That man was giving me the creeps.”

“I can remember not to speak in French around you,” Louis offered.“No, I promise I like it.” Harry said, this time kissing Louis on the lips. “So... who was the guy?” “Patrick Demarchelier. He's a photographer. Incredibly successful,” Louis explained.“I know that name,” Harry mused.“There was a running joke in _The Devil Wears Prada?_ ”

Harry laughed. “Yes! I love that movie. Oh my go- gosh, can we watch it? I haven't seen it in ages. I'm sure they've got it on demand.”

“Now?” Louis clarified.

“Yes!” Harry nodded happily.

“Not if you paid me.” Louis laughed. “That film's terrible.”

“It's funny!”

“It's not funny,” Louis said, smiling at Harry. “Anna Wintour's lovely, you know. She really is. I'm not watching that shit.”

“Suit yourself.” Harry got off Louis' lap and turned on the big TV. “You go to sleep, I'll sneak in after the movie's done.”

"You don't want to be around me?" Louis asked as he looked down at his hurt hand.

"Of course I want to be around you," Harry said sincerely. "I just can't go to sleep right now. I need a moment. A few."

Louis liked falling asleep with Harry. Harry normally went first, eyes shut tight for a while before they softened, lax. His lips pouted a bit and the rest of his face relaxed while he slept. Sometimes he made little sighs, and if Louis tightened his arm around a sleeping Harry, Harry would give a happy hum.

There was something so pleasantly domestic about not falling asleep together, though. Doing separate things in this suite which – if you ignored the indoor trampoline and half-court they still hadn't played ball on – one could imagine was an apartment home they shared together.

Louis drifted to sleep easily, looking forward to being gently awoken by Harry's weight rocking the bed, the way Harry would lie on his side of the bed awkwardly for a good ten minutes before sighing loudly, slotting his body in by Louis' and finding Louis' hand to hold.

When Louis awoke, however, Harry still hadn't joined him in bed. A glance at the clock confirmed the movie should be over. Perhaps Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Louis walked to the lounge to wake Harry. Maybe selfishly; the couch would be fine to sleep on, but Louis wanted Harry next to him.

Except Harry wasn't in the lounge.“ _Où es-tu, mon petit?_ ” Louis called out.“Louis? You're awake?” Harry's voice squeaked out tentatively. “Where are you?” Louis said, trying to follow the voice.

“I'm in the bathroom.” Harry sounded scared, a bit weak. His tone made Louis practically run through the suite to the bathroom.

Harry was completely naked, his cock hanging limp. Even soft, it still looked so nice and long and thick. It wasn't cold, but Harry was shivering a bit - why wasn't he dressed? Louis took the complimentary bathrobe off the back of the door, hanging it over Harry's shoulders.

He was momentarily distracted by how _beautiful_ Harry was – it was absurd, he left Louis speechless; brown curls swooping to one side, creamy skin with a couple of blemishes on his face that reminded Louis of just how young Harry was.

Half-wrapped in the white bathrobe, Harry's small bare body was gingerly leaning the side of his hip against the sink in a rather awkward way, a grimace plastered on his face.

“Are you all right?” Louis asked, rubbing Harry's arm gently.

The corner of Harry's mouth twitched.

“Harry?” Louis asked softly.

“I think I hurt myself,” Harry said, worry evident in his eyes. “Not badly or anything, but, um....”

Louis quickly scanned scanned Harry head-to-toe. All his fingers were still connected, his limbs resting at normal angles, nothing was bleeding.

He hadn't, however, moved an inch from where he was resting against the sink. “Where?”Harry's grimace tightened. “Oh, this is awful,” he said under his breath.“I can't help you if you don't show me,” Louis said, starting to worry.

Harry averted his eyes. Louis followed his gaze to the bathroom counter. Laying on it was Harry's toothbrush, and a bottle of lube.

“Harry...” Louis said slowly. “What did you do?”

Harry let out an embarrassed whimper as he dropped the bathrobe and turned around. “I think I hurt my bum!” he squeaked.

“Oh, love.” Louis stroked Harry's back. “Did you want me to have a look?” “No,” Harry moaned. “But... will you? Please? I'm so sorry.”

“Don't say sorry. I've seen it before. I've had my mouth there.” Louis reminded him. “Can you bend forward a bit, maybe?” Louis asked, because Harry's ass cheeks were tensed up in anxiety and Louis couldn't see a thing.

Harry let out another embarrassed moan as he leant forward. Louis knelt down on the bathrobe behind him, a garish reversal of the positions they'd been in when Harry ate Louis out only the night before. He gently held Harry's little ass to get a proper look.

Harry was clearly tensed up, his hole looking tiny. “Relax, mon petit. Breathe,” Louis said softly, giving Harry's lower back a rub. He heard Harry take a few deep breaths, but nothing changed. “You're all clenched up, love. Relax.”

“I can't!” Harry whined in despair.“Don't rush yourself,” Louis said gently. “Take your time. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

After a few minutes, Harry's asshole was looking a little less vice-like.

“I'm going to touch just near it, okay? Can you stay relaxed? _Tu peux essayer?_ ”

Harry gave a muffled, “Mm-hm.”

Louis placed his fingers by Harry's rim and very gently pulled him out, just a fraction. Honestly, it didn't even look flushed red.

“Was there any blood?” Louis asked.

“No,” Harry said.

“Is it hurting now?”

“Yes!” Harry immediately wailed.

“Chill for a second. Breathe,” Louis instructed. “Is it still hurting?” he repeated, emphasising the question.

Harry took another few deep breaths. “No - no, it's not hurting.” He sounded incredibly relieved. Louis stood up, wrapping Harry back up in the bathrobe.“What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry moaned, leaning into Louis' arms. “I'm so bad. I'm so bad, bad, bad. I just – I wanted to stop being scared about stuff up there. I wanted to be able to do it so I thought I'd try but I thought with my own fingers that'd be masturbation, which I can't do, but I thought maybe with my toothbrush...”

“Your logic is brilliant.” Louis laughed, kissing Harry's forehead.“It wouldn't go up so I just sort of... shoved it.”Louis winced.“Then it did go up and it didn't feel good at all and I yanked it straight back out again.” Louis' wince tightened.

“Oh, my love.” Louis hugged Harry. “You poor thing.”

Louis' eyes went back to the toothbrush on the bench, imagining Harry's tiny little asshole, his perfect crinkly soft rim, clenched tight around a fucking yellow plastic toothbrush.

Louis frowned. “Jealous of a toothbrush?” he muttered to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Louis said quickly. “Oh, Harry. It's not often a great idea to just shove something up there - I mean, it's probably never a good idea to shove a _toothbrush_ up there – but if you're doing anything, you've got to be relaxed. In the right mood.”

“How?” Harry peered up at Louis. “It's so scary.”

“Scary enough to not want to do it?” Louis asked carefully.

“No,” Harry said softly. “I want to...”

“You've got to relax then, _mon petit._ ”

“How can you relax when something's about to go up your bum?” Harry yelped. “Seriously, Louis?”

“ _Oui_ , seriously!” Louis interrupted him, laughing. “But you don't just instantly relax, you know, you've got to... I don't know, put effort into getting into in the mood.”

“How do you... get in the mood?” Harry's nostrils flared.

“Hypothetically?” Louis cautiously asked.

“No,” Harry blurted out. “Literally. Like actually – like – right now.”

“You really want to?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. His cheeks flushed, and he quickly added, “Not saying I'll do anything, I just... can you help me like, relax and stuff?”

Merde. _Merde_.

Louis could throw men around with the strength of someone twice his size, he knew where to poke and bite to get someone hard almost instantly, he knew the perfect amount of saliva needed to twist two fingers in straight away, up the ass of a guy who's jeans he'd probably only bothered to tug down to just under his ass. He knew how to talk filthy to cover up the fact that he'd forgotten someone's name already, knew how to one-handedly apply lube to his fingers, he knew how to nudge his knee between someone's legs all night so they were turned on enough to let Louis just go straight to the prostate, knew how to rip most of someone's outfit off before they'd closed the front door behind themselves. He knew how to set the mood for a half-hearted fingering and then a rough, _good,_ but emotionless fuck.

Louis didn't want to do any of that to Harry. He didn't want Harry feeling emotionally detached and casual and slutty.

The mood he wanted to strike in Harry, well – Louis had maybe never been in that mood before. He'd probably never put anyone else in that mood before either.

He wanted Harry to believe that Louis was the kind of person that someone could, maybe one day, feel safe and loved around.

“Come with me, then.” Louis plucked a bottle of massage oil out of his own toiletries bag. His hand hesitated over the counter, and he snatched up the bottle of lube too, ignoring Harry's eyes burning holes through his hand.

In his free hand he picked up Harry's, leading him back to the bedroom.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Harry lay down on the bed on his stomach, still completely naked. He folded his arms in front of him, resting his face to the side.

“Close your eyes,” Louis said. “If you want, I mean.”

“Thank goodness I don't have to look at your ugly face any more,” Harry joked, obligingly shutting his eyes.

“I'm beautiful,” Louis said, completely self-assured. If anything, Harry considered that an understatement.

Louis straddled Harry just below his bum; Harry could feel the fabric of Louis' pants on his bare legs.

“You can take off your clothes too, if you want,” Harry offered, eyes still shut.

“ _Merde,_ ” Louis breathed, but he got off. When he returned, Harry could feel Louis' bare bum on the skin of his thighs.

Harry heard the click of a bottle, and then Louis' hands were smoothing liquid all over Harry's back.

“What's that?”

“Massage oil. It's mostly coconut oil,” Louis said. “There's some cocoa butter in it, and just a little bit of peppermint oil – that's what makes it feel kind of cool.”

“It's nice,” Harry commented, because it was. It smelled nice and it felt nice and - “It's edible,” Louis said softly. _Oh_.

“You have the nicest skin,” Louis said while working his hands over the middle of Harry's back. It ached in a really good way, like Harry hadn't realised just how tense he was until Louis began working out the knots.

“Nah. I get pimples on my back sometimes,” Harry dismissed.“A sixteen-year-old with pimples.” Louis laughed softly above him. “Who would have thought.

They're gorgeous. Your skin's still beautiful. You're beautiful, _t'es tellement beau._ ” Harry swallowed. His heart felt a little fiery in his chest.

 

He'd gotten 'cute' from people before, his mom sometimes called him 'handsome', but Louis was the first person to ever call Harry beautiful.

Louis leant forward to kiss Harry's shoulder. Harry felt Louis' cock, really very hard, nudging against one of Harry's butt cheeks.

It wasn't a conscious decision. Harry's body just acted. He lifted his ass up off the bed to meet Louis' cock. And – well - a moan escaped his lips.

“You seeing how hard you've got me?” Louis said sternly into Harry's ear – like it was a bad thing, like Harry was naughty for getting Louis hard.

Harry liked it when Louis talked that way. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes shut.

Harry felt Louis' weight drop a bit, his cock pressing in even harder to Harry's flesh. “Feel that?” Louis prompted.

“Yes.”

“You like it?”

“Yes!” Harry squeaked.

Louis' hips rocked, pressing harder then backing off, repeating it a few times while he kissed soft lips up Harry's neck.

If Harry wasn't mistaken, he could feel a small amount of precome getting smeared over his left ass cheek.

Which, when you considered the potentially _large_ damp spot Harry could feel on the bed below his own cock, was absolutely fine.

Louis' hips stopped moving, and when he spoke again his tone was a bit different. “This is all right, 'Arry, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you'll tell me if it's not, promise?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry insisted. “You can tell I like it, can't you?”

“Oh, yes. I can,” Louis said confidently, but then he paused. “ _Tu as seize ans!_ ” he added a little helplessly. “I just feel like I've got to say something, don't I?”

Harry wasn't annoyed, though. He was glad Louis still checked.

Louis sat up straight again and began twisting his fingers at the edge of Harry's shoulder blades, pushing the bone up a little.

“Oh my Go – gosh,” Harry quickly corrected himself. “That feels amazing, wow.” “Have you never had a massage before?” Louis asked, casually curious.“No,” Harry replied. _Duh,_ he hadn't. “I don't go to the beauty parlour, Louis, I'm not g-” Ah, shit.

Shut up shut up shut _up -_

“ _Mon petit_ ,” Louis whispered, stroking Harry's cheek with the back of his knuckles before pressing a thumb firmly above Harry's eyebrow and smoothing along to the temple. Harry hadn't realised he was frowning. He relaxed his face, and Louis' thumb ran strong over his forehead again.

Harry didn't know you could massage a face, but it felt really nice. Everything felt really nice – on the outside, at least. Harry gave a sad hum, and Louis kept his hand moving: on Harry's forehead, down across his cheekbones.

“ _Mon bon garçon,_ ” Louis said softly. “ _Mon petit-ami._ ”

Even though his skin was being tugged about, Harry managed a small smile. He could hear his own voice echoing in his head, though; _I'm not gay._ There'd been a time not very long ago that he'd believed himself when he said it.

“You don't have to worry about it right now if you don't want to, okay?” Louis said, voice still so quiet.

“I don't want to.” Harry hadn't wanted to worry about it for a few days or more or maybe his entire lifetime.

“Good,” Louis said firmly. “Because this here is all about learning to relax, _oui?_ ” “Oui,” Harry agreed.

“Not ' _wee_ ',” Louis said, his fingertips moving up into Harry's curls, rubbing his scalp. It felt blissful. “ _Oui_. ' _Ooo_ ' sound.”

“ _Oui,_ ” Harry tried again.

“ _Pas mal,_ ” Louis said happily. “Not bad.” He gently tugged on the curls at the nape of Harry's neck, stretching the skin up a little. It didn't hurt, it actually felt great. Louis really knew what he was doing.

Louis' hands left Harry's hair, pushing slow circles down Harry's neck. Harry drifted, getting lost in the sensation, like his neck was relaxing longer. He felt like he could float away.

If he did, he hoped Louis would come with him.

“Can I massage your legs?” Louis asked, breaking Harry out of his daze. “If you want.” Harry was humbled, already feeling spoiled rotten.

“If _you_ want,” Louis said.“I do. Please.”Harry felt the mattress sink on one side as Louis slid off Harry to kneel next to him.

He heard Louis pour out a little more massage oil, then felt Louis' hot, slick hands glide up the back of his thighs, pressing in.

“That tickles!” Harry objected, tensing up in protest.

“Relax,” Louis encouraged. “I know it feels weird, but the muscles here get just as tense as your back. If you can breathe, and don't let the muscles tense up, I can massage them out. It feels really good. _Tu peux essayer,_ can you-”

“Relax?” Harry guessed.

“Try,” Louis corrected gently. “Essayer is – _putain_ , you don't really need a French lesson right now, do you?”

“Guess not. Right now you're teaching me how to – what is 'relax'?” Harry asked.

“I said no French right now.” Louis chuckled, leaning down to kiss Harry's shoulder blade, his cheek, his eyelashes, the corner of his smile.

Tiny fireworks shot out through Harry's belly. Louis had the nicest lips.

Louis pressed his thumbs into the back of Harry's thighs quite firmly, sliding them from knee up to bum. It didn't tickle, exactly. It definitely felt odd. Harry concentrated on keeping his leg muscles loose.

“It does feel good,” Harry acknowledged.“Of course it does,” Louis said proudly. “I'm always right.”

Louis then dug straight into Harry's butt cheeks, finding Harry's sit bones and circling them with a slow pressure. Harry tensed up automatically, then consciously relaxed again.

It felt really, really good.

Louis' thumbs slid back down, pressing into where Harry's thighs met his bum. Louis dipped down further to scoop into the top of Harry's inner thighs, sending tingles shooting down Harry's dick.

Harry wasn't sure if you were supposed to tingle down there from a massage, but... feeling like that around Louis was inevitable.

Louis' fingers ran oil across the tiny hairs on Harry's thighs, slicking them down. Harry felt them slowly flick back to face the grain.

Louis' hands kept working Harry's inner thighs, relentlessly steady, going no further. “Can balls be massaged?” Harry blurted out, then turned his nose into the mattress in embarrassment. _Real smooth._ __Harry could hear the smile in Louis' voice. “I don't know if you'd call that a massage.”

Louis' fingers looped through the back of Harry's curls, gently pulling him back to rest his face on his other cheek now. “It's better when I can see your pretty face,” Louis added very softly.

“Why do you call me pretty?” Harry asked, his eyes still shut.

“Because you are,” Louis said simply, his hands slowly running closer up in between Harry's legs.

“I've never heard anyone call a boy pretty before.”

“Don't you like it? It's okay if you don't,” Louis said sincerely.

It was hard to tell with Louis' thin fingers so close to where Harry _really_ needed to be touched, it was hard to think straight, did he like it? Harry was pretty sure he'd just love anything Louis did.

The thing was though, Harry _felt_ pretty.“I like it. I love all the things you say I am. Just... maybe don't say it in front of anyone else.”

“Of course,” Louis said, and he didn't sound like he minded. “Look at you, with your lips and your hair and your dimple, of course you're pretty. There's a lot of things I want say to you that I can't say in front of anyone else,” he added darkly. His fingers then slipped right in between Harry's thighs, giving his balls one, two, three painfully soft strokes, his touch a ghost on Harry's skin.

Then Louis bounced right down to the end of the bed and picked up Harry's left foot, working his fingers into the arch.

Harry groaned, languidly digging his hips in a slow circle against the mattress. “ _Louis,_ ” Harry reprimanded.

“ _Oui, mon petit?_ ” Louis sounded too innocent as he carefully stretched Harry's toes back. “My feet aren't sore!” Harry tried to kick out of Louis' grip, but Louis held onto his foot tight, despite it being slippery with massage oil. “I don't need a massage, I need-”

“You need to be patient,” Louis said sternly, his fingertips moving to circle around Harry's ankle bones. “The longer you wait, the more you'll want it, and the better it will be.”

After a few minutes, he switched to Harry's right foot and repeated his strokes.

It appeared Louis had _some_ mercy, though, as his free hand landed on the lowest part of Harry's back, pushing him into the mattress. Louis jiggled his hand side to side a bit, rocking Harry's crotch into the bed. It was a sweet relief and Harry felt a few more drops of precome ooze out of his his tip.

Harry had to gasp, “Stop, stop, or I'll come too soon.”

Louis sounded pleased as he lifted off his hand. “ _Bon garçon,_ my good, good boy,” he praised. “How do you want to come, then?”

Harry couldn't bring himself to say it, because what he wanted was really, really bad. He just said, “I don't want to come yet.”

Louis once more sat at the back of Harry's thighs, this time working his hands over Harry's shoulders and down each bicep, then each forearm, then he bent Harry's elbows and massaged his hands.

Louis was fully hard now, Harry could feel him resting thick and heavy right along Harry's ass crack. There was something almost casual about it, to be able to be that physically close when Louis was like that, like that near right Harry's bum, and not have to do anything about it, just... sit there in it.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so casual if Louis wasn't straddling Harry's thighs, preventing Harry from spreading his legs and presenting himself properly to Louis.

Harry mentally ran himself through his body – face, scalp, neck, back, arms, legs, feet, hands. Louis had done them all. Please, please, let it be time.

Louis' weight lifted off again, and Harry started giggling. “ _Quoi?_ What, what is it?” Louis asked, sounding self-conscious.

“How many times are you going to get up and down?” Harry laughed, opening his eyes and propping himself up to look at Louis. “You're like – I don't know, a jack-in-the-box.”

“ _You're_ the one we're getting wound up here, got it?” Louis said sharply, lying down face-to-face next to Harry, digging an oiled-up thumb into Harry's hipbone. “You feel good now, yeah? Relaxed, and, er - _t'es chaud?_ You're turned on?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I mean, like..." He was pretty sure if he gave a single sharp thrust to the mattress, he'd come. "I want-" and Harry couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"More massage?" Louis teased, putting his hand back up to Harry's neck, softly thumbing the bumps of his spine.

"No," Harry said, twisting his head to try to get Louis' hand off.Louis just moved his hand down to Harry's mid-back. "Time for bed, then?" he smiled.Harry had to smile back. "You know what I want to do. Otherwise what was all that just for?" “For you,” Louis said softly, moving forward to give Harry a kiss.That – that was very sweet.

But Harry was _desperate_ for it.

“ _Please_ , Louis. I'm 'in the mood', okay?”

Louis understood him. Thank goodness.

Well, sort of.

"I've got toys," Louis began to babble, like he was nervous or something. "I promise they're clean - I'm pretty sure I've got something brand new actually, I don't think it'd be too big-"

“Not toys,” Harry said flatly - then quickly added, “Not a dick either! Just – fingers. Please.” “Do you want me to leave? Or do you want me to watch?” Louis asked.

"Stop it!” Harry said. “You know I mean _your_ fingers. So you can stop teasing, because I'm worked up, I want it. I want you." Harry urged.

Harry had never wanted anything so badly in his life. Like, this didn't even come close to how badly he was wanting a mission placement six months ago. It didn't even come close to spotting a black-and-white heart print shirt at Burberry and just _knowing_ he had to wear it that very night.

This need to let Louis into a very special part of himself... nothing had ever come close to this before.

"You're sixteen," Louis spoke hushed, his shoulders giving a small, slightly uncomfortable shrug. "You're sixteen and you're so - you're so – are you sure you're ready?"

Harry leant in, kissing Louis gently. "You don't need to know that. I know that I'm ready. All you need to know is if you want to do it."

"I want to." Louis nodded, his shoulders relaxing, discomfort eased."Well... just - effing do it!" Harry pleaded. "I don't know... you know what to do."

Still lying by Harry's side, Louis' hand slipped in between Harry's cheeks – all still slick with massage oil - and Harry felt Louis' finger on his hole. It felt different to what Louis had done to him before and Harry got it, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on staying relaxed. Louis wasn't trying to pleasure Harry, he was properly assessing him; is he ready, is he ready, is he -

"I'm ready Louis, please." Harry was practically feverish, because the way Louis was touching him wasn't making it any easier to not blow his load on the spot. "Now."

Louis yanked at Harry's shoulders, turning him off his belly to face Louis properly. Harry was so relaxed and boneless that he got flipped right over over. He kind of felt like he was getting woken up from being half-asleep, he'd gotten so relaxed and dreamy.

"I need to see you properly, _mon petit_. Please, just for a second." Louis knelt above him, so Harry sat up too so they were face to face, blue eyes locked on green.

Louis looked _sinful_ , a storm in his eyes like blue and grey clouds were hiding something filthy. Something filthy that Harry wanted.

Harry wondered if he looked filthy, like Louis did - or did he look innocent, virginal, even scared?

Maybe Louis was waiting for Harry to say something, but after probably two full minutes Louis swooped forward, pulling Harry into a tight embrace and kissing him, deep and passionate. Louis was slow and calm but Harry was frantic, hissing shallow breaths in and out of his nose, pushing his tongue in with more urgency than skill, gripping Louis's body right back and pulling him in, needing him close, close, closer.

When they broke apart, Louis said, "It might hurt a bit, okay? It probably won't feel good straight away."

Harry swallowed, wondering exactly what it would feel like. He was about to find out. "That's fine. I'm tough. I want to do it."

Louis beamed like a proud cat and then he shoved Harry back. Harry flopped down like a fish out of water, wriggling back over onto his belly. He shut his eyes again.

This time Louis spread Harry's thighs apart, kneeling in between them.

"Don't stop if I freak out, okay?" Harry requested. "I want to do it so don't listen to me if I freak, keep going."

" _Non_ , love," Louis gently refused. Harry heard a kiss sound and then Louis pressed two fingers onto Harry's shoulder blade. "Today's just one single day of the thousands we've got. If you freak out, we're stopping."

Thousands of days left in their respective lifetimes, Harry wondered, or thousands of days left together?

"Open your eyes for me," Louis asked. When Harry opened them, Louis was holding up one finger to Harry's line of vision.

"Sorry to be crude, but this is a lot smaller than a shit, yeah?" Louis asked."Yes." Harry laughed, oddly not put-off by the comparison."So it'll fit. It can't possibly cause any damage. Just remind yourself that, yeah?" Harry nodded. "Two or three fingers would still be smaller than a shit," he mused. "Christ, 'Arry." Louis laughed too, a bit weakly. He withdrew his hand. "Steady."

Harry heard the snick of the lube bottle - jeepers, he was only sixteen and he recognised the sound of a bottle of lubricant - _anal lubricant_ \- and then Louis' dripping fingers slicked up Harry's hole.

"I'm going to put my finger in you now, okay? Deep breath in, then breathe out slow,” Louis guided. “Stay relaxed."

Harry breathed in, not sure how to stay relaxed when his heart was like a mad machine gun hammering against his ribs. He held it in for as long as he could, because this was it. This was the very last moment he'd ever not had someone's finger up his bum. It was terrifying, and he really wanted it.

Harry couldn't hold his breath forever, so there was only one thing left to do.

He breathed out.

Louis' finger slid in just a bit, and Harry heard a choked sob above him. Harry's rim sort of burned - okay, it _really_ burned hot, it stung, but it wasn't unbearable. Not like the toothbrush handle, the toothbrush had been absolutely awful. This wasn’t that bad.

Harry felt his hole wrapped so tight around Louis' finger, and it really hurt, but it was okay. Louis pushed in a tiny bit further.

Harry screamed into the pillow, because it was all hot and the burning feeling through his rim was fading off but only really really slowly and something was sort of jolting up in his guts and along his cock. He didn't know how Louis would take the scream so he managed to gasp, "Please don't stop!"

"Oh my God, 'Arry." Louis sounded like he was barely breathing. "You look incredible." Louis' finger wasn't moving, just resting still inside Harry.

Harry really appreciated it, because it was very strange to adjust to and only half-pleasant. Maybe a little less than half.

Harry kept thinking he was relaxed but then his hole would twitch on its own accord, tightening around Louis' fingers before relaxing again. It kept doing that, just flickering every few seconds. He'd never considered the muscle there to be strong, never thought about it in that way, but that's definitely how it felt.

Harry could hear it too, his hole squeezing around Louis' slippery-wet fingers.

"I'm gonna put on a bit more lube, okay?" Louis whispered, sliding his finger out slowly. The movement stung a little and Harry thought, _yeah, more lube._

Harry listened: a click, a squirt, and the sound of a bottle being placed back down."Breathe in and out again?" Louis asked softly.This time Harry rushed it, sucking air into his lungs. He steadily blew it out of his mouth. Louis' finger slid back in. It was wetter than before, and Harry still felt the burning, but it wasn't even half as bad as just prior.“ _Oh,_ ” Harry sighed softly."Fucking perfect," Louis said, his free hand stroking over Harry's butt cheek.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, because he needed to hear it. He needed Louis to be louder than the part of Harry's brain that was yelling at him for being so bad, so completely, irredeemably sinful. “Am I good?”

" _Ou_ \- I mean, _yes_ , you're good. You're so, so good.” Louis's words were uncharacteristically slow. “You look - so... you're pink and tight - oh Jesus Christ, you're so fucking tight - Smooth... you're glistening, you're shine... no, shin _ing_ , sorry - oh, 'Arry, I don't even know how you say it. You're perfect."

By the way Louis was labouring over his words, Harry could tell Louis needed to concentrate on his English, and that was – that's -

That's Louis flustered, his brain too busy with Harry's tight asshole to have enough space for fluency in English.

That's Louis, who consistently hid his anger and embarrassment and feelings behind French. That's Louis making sure he spoke _English_ to Harry right now, so Harry understood every word. Which had to mean something.It had to mean something in any language.

Louis still wasn't moving his finger, and that was still a good thing.

"You said _Je t'aime_ the other day," Harry blurted out, opening his eyes, trying to turn his head around to see Louis. "In Seattle. You said _Je t'aime_. To me, I mean."

"Oh? Did I?" Louis said feebly, like he wasn't even trying to come across casual.

"Yes, you did." Harry had to look at Louis, he couldn't have this conversation with his his head pressed to the mattress. "No - stop, stop, stop."

“Of course.” Louis pulled his finger out, a good balance between doing it fast and doing it gently. This time it didn't sting.

Harry quickly turned himself over to sit up and - ooh. It didn't hurt to move around, but it's like he could feel that something was just up there.

"I'm not an idiot!" Harry was half-yelling -

But he was half-laughing too, because Louis wasn't an idiot either. Louis had to know that any American kid over the age of ten or so knows ' _bonjour'_ and ' _oui oui'_ and they all know ' _Je t'aime'_ ;

they've seen it on necklaces at Claire's, they've used it to nonsensically caption their Facebook photos, and they've read it on the front of the Valentine's day cards their parents gave each other.

Louis was not an idiot and Harry was not an idiot and there was a difference between hiding behind French and _pretending_ to hide behind French, just waiting around day after day until the other guy says:

"I know what Je t'aime means!" Harry hollered. Louis just smiled like an embarrassed idiot. “Sorry.”

“You don't have to say sorry.” Harry lowered his voice, staring straight at Louis. "Not if you meant it.”

Louis didn't say anything.“Did you mean it?” Harry demanded.

Louis held both of Harry's hands, linking their fingers together. He leant down, nuzzling his nose into Harry's neck. “Of course I did,” Louis said.

Louis had been soft and serious with Harry plenty of times before, but never quite like this. So all Harry managed was, “Okay. That's... good, I guess.”

But it was like the start of a chain reaction, sending Harry's mind off spiralling. Because Harry just had Louis' finger up his bum and he'd been secretly sharing beds with Louis for like three weeks now which was both a long time and not at all a long time and up until now only family had ever said they loved Harry, well, only family and a girl called Emily in preschool who said “I love you,” and then kicked Harry in the guts, which was funny really, because he sort of felt like he'd been kicked in the guts now too.

“I know what Je t'aime means,” Harry repeated stupidly. “I just... thought I should say that. So you know.”

Louis looked defiant, breathing heavily. “Well. I meant it. Which is why I said it. So... so you know.”

Harry wanted one of them to just say it in English, but they'd have to scream it so loud that it drowned out the rest of Harry's thoughts, the scary ones: the doubt and the panic.

“Will you please take care of me tonight?” Harry asked weakly. “I don't mean make me come, I mean -”

Louis squeezed Harry's hands. “Baby. We're doing what ever you want to do tonight. Until you fall asleep, and then I'm going to stay up for the rest of the night just to make sure you're sleeping peacefully. And in the morning I'm taking you out, for eggs benedict or ice cream or anything you want.”

Harry didn't need all that. But he didn't need to say no, either.

Harry squeezed Louis' hands back.“Ah! _Putain!_ ” One of Louis' hand twitched in Harry's.

Harry looked down at Louis' knuckles, bruised with two small scratches forming scabs. “Oh, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Louis said with a brave grimace. “It's my own fault.”

Harry brought Louis' hand up to his mouth, giving each knuckle the softest kiss he could manage. “I can't believe you punched Patrick Demarche-thingy for me.”

“I think I'd do anything for you.” Louis laughed a little hollow, eyes still down at his hand. He then looked back up, smiling serenely. “Yes, I'll take care of you tonight, 'Arry.”

“What now, then?” Harry asked shyly.

“I don't know, but if I keep talking like this, I'll be sick,” Louis joked, but he leant in and kissed Harry.

And everything was just – how could anyone have ever told Harry it was wrong for boys to kiss boys, because _this_ is how Harry wanted to be kissed for the rest of his life: by Louis. Louis' soft, thin lips pressing into Harry's plump ones, the coarse hair on Louis' upper lip and chin tickling into Harry's skin. The way Louis moaned, he sounded like a man because he was a man, _Louis was a man and Harry was making him moan,_ just by kissing him.

Louis' breath was hot in Harry's mouth and it was sort of rough, just like how Louis first told him kissing a boy would be like.

Harry was supposed to be worried about his feelings and probably equally worried about the fact that Louis had certain feelings of his own, but the way Louis kissed him made Harry's mind clear, with a single focus.

He knelt up to match Louis' height on the bed, looping his thumb and forefinger around his own cock and reached his middle, ring and pinkie up to touch Louis' dick. It didn't lend to a good grip on either of them but he pumped their cocks together all the same, and Louis gasped, shaking.

“Fuck, 'Arry. _Fuck._ You've got a perfect little ass, you know that?” Louis growled into Harry's ear, and Harry was a bit relieved to see Louis switch from this strange, soft, loving thing back to stern and authoritative and a bit rude. “You felt so fucking good, so hot and smooth and so fucking tight. You're such a good boy. You know you are, you took my finger so well. Wish you could see how perfectly dirty you looked, such a perfect pink little hole, you're so good, you're _so good_ -”

“Shh.” Harry blushed, hiding his beet-red face in Louis' neck and pausing his hand around them, trying to catch his breath. “Didn't even have your finger in all the way, did you?”

“No,” Louis said, kissing the top of Harry's head. “It's okay, though. No rush.”

“ _Yes_ rush,” Harry urged, “Because I'm not like you, I'm going to come really really soon, and I want -” Harry felt himself blushing even worse, because all he could think about was when he had his own fingers inside Louis and Louis came like that, came clenching tight pulses around Harry's fingers.

“I just want to try it,” Harry pleaded desperately.

“Of course, mon petit.” Louis beamed. “Do you want to lie down again?”

Harry did just that, lying down on his stomach. He didn't want his dick pressing into the mattress though, because then he'd come before Louis was even back inside him. He put his weight on his knees and his chest instead, and kept his bum up, cock moving heavy and free in the air.

“ _Merde_ , look at you,” Louis breathed and Harry heard the bottle of lube once more. “You're so perfect like that.”

\-----

Louis chewed on his lip for a minute, deliberating. He already felt evil for just going straight in with his middle finger instead of starting with a pinkie, or at least his index finger. He felt worse for wanting to hold two fingers together, push them both in slowly and watch Harry stretch out tight.

Louis shook his head at himself. This wasn't about him, it was about Harry.

It had never not been about Louis before.

“You ready?”This time Harry's, “Mm-hm,” came out throaty, hungry, _filthy_.

Louis' cock was hard and twitching at the sound of Harry, the sight of him with his ass perked up, his chest pushing down into the mattress, curls limp on his head.

“I just want this to be perfect for you, Harry,” Louis said. He knew the next day he'd be replaying all his own words back in his head, cringing at himself. Then again, Harry would probably do something dorky or clumsy, and Louis would get to cringe at him instead. They were a good team.

“Then put your finger all the way in this time?” Harry asked. “Just like I do to you?”

Louis lubed up his finger and when he stroked over Harry's hole, he heard Harry take a deep breath in, perfectly trained already. When Harry breathed out, Louis pushed in halfway.

Harry gasped, turning his face and burying his nose into the mattress in front of him. His hands clutched the sheets, and dragging them along the bed.

“It's all right?”

“Fuck yes,” came Harry's reply, muffled against the bed.

Louis' finger was squeezed tight, he could feel a pulse – he honestly wasn't sure if it was Harry's or his own.

“Better than a toothbrush?” Louis couldn't help himself. “Yes,” Harry said wryly. “Please, just – deeper?”

Louis splayed his other fingers out of the way and slowly pushed in, all the way up to the base of his finger. Louis couldn't help from breathing heavily, trying to listen out for Harry's response above his own gasps; Harry moaned very loud and low.

Harry was strong and small around the base of Louis' finger, but deeper up he was the softest, smoothest thing Louis' had ever felt.

It was unparalleled.

See, Louis had touched a lot of incredible things.

He had first worked with silk when he was five years old. He'd found something in his mother's closet that felt beautiful to the touch and he wanted to feel it on his body, but it was too big to wear, so he happily snipped it up with the chicken scissors from the kitchen, sticky-taped it to his own body, and proudly shown his mother his creation.

She'd screamed and sobbed for her ruined wedding dress, and when Louis' father had come home, he'd gotten whacked on the palm of his hands with a wooden spoon – six times.

His very first luxury clothing piece was a Prada sweater, not unlike the one he'd gotten for Harry. It was cashmere, far softer than any garment Louis had owned before. He loved to hold the hem of the sleeve in his hand and rub it across his lips, so soft and gentle.

Louis easily owned more than a hundred cashmere pieces now. Sweaters, cardigans, scarves you could pull through a woman's engagement ring.

Louis knew soft.

He'd actually yelled at a boss of his once, because the idiot wanted to use pure bamboo. Louis convinced him that a fifty-fifty blend of bamboo and goat's wool would be softer.

He'd slept on sheets with a seemingly impossibly high thread count. Through work, the demand for him to travel became so high that he made demands right back: Egyptian cotton only.

Louis had worked with Chinese silk that, once sewn, was sent off for royalty to wear. He'd touched chiffon that cost more than a thousand dollars a metre.

He'd fast-changed models into smooth satin dresses of such a high quality, they slid up with complete ease.

Harry's asshole was the softest, smoothest thing Louis had _ever_ felt.

Louis didn't dare entertain the broader application of the sensation, that one day it might not be his _finger_ feeling how Harry was so hot and pliant deep inside, squeezing around Louis with the occasional whimper.

“You can move your finger,” Harry said, his voice small.

Louis curled his finger down, slowly pressing into Harry's silky, spongy flesh. He pushed in just a bit harder, wanting his touch to reach further inside.

“Oh my god, Louis!” Harry gasped high. “What's – _oh my god!_ ” Harry's body slumped as he moved his arm out from underneath his head, grabbing his cock in his hand. “Do it again!”

Louis pushed a small circle down into what, by Harry's reaction, honestly could have been Harry's prostate, or Harry – a _virgin_ \- could have just been reacting from being fingered alone.

Harry let out a series of staccato yelps, his whole body trembling, his rim squeezing Louis' finger so hard it tingled. Louis had to let himself lean over, so he could watch white come drip out through Harry's fist that was twisting over the head of his cock, his fingers getting beautifully filthy.

Louis could cry, Harry was so beautiful.

Harry groaned, wiping a messy hand off on the sheet. Louis gently pulled his finger out.

"Ohh," Harry said sadly as he flopped down flat on the bed, turning his chin over his shoulder to look at Louis. "Don't stop."

"Feels sort of empty, doesn't it?" Louis chuckled, rubbing a hand over Harry's ass cheek in gratitude.

“I wanna keep going,” Harry begged, rolling over onto his back. “I feel really good now, it doesn't burn at all, please, come back.”

Harry lay there expectantly, his cheeks flushed and his chest mottled red in heat, rising and falling rapidly with his breath. His hair was a wild mess and the sheets of the bed were a tangled mess and Harry's cock was a come-smeared _mess_.

Louis smiled at Harry, reaching for the bottle of lube again, and reapplying. “You can do two,” Harry said boldly. “Two fingers.”“Are you sure?” Louis checked, licking his lips.

Harry nodded.

\-----

Louis guided Harry's knees up to his chest, curling him into a little ball. He leant over Harry on one hand, fitting himself between Harry's legs.

Louis looked straight into Harry's eyes as he stroked Harry's hole with _two_ fingers. Harry nodded, and breathed in... breathed out.

Louis slid his fingers in. He must have been going as gently as he could, but there was definitely more force this time because he had to get two fingers to fit through Harry's rim.

Harry knew what to expect this time around, though, a hot burn that he knew would fade after not too long, a rim that would tighten in brief protest against his brain's order to relax, relax.

The sharp pain eased off a lot quicker than before, and Harry felt slippery now from all the lube, his insides all gooey too from coming just before and from the way Louis looked at him.

“Can you do the scissor thing?” Harry requested. “Like I did to you?”Louis gave a small happy nod. Harry readied himself for the burning feeling again. He didn't feel anything. Not a thing.“Lou?” Harry asked cautiously.

“I can't!” Louis gasped, sounding completely overwhelmed. Louis shut his eyes, his brow pinched, long eyelashes pressing into the top of his cheeks. “You're so small.” Harry couldn't tell if the crack in his tone was happiness or sadness. “You're so fucking tight that I can't move my fingers apart.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry apologised. He was really trying.

“No, _mon petit,_ ” Louis moaned, leaning in to kiss Harry. As his upper body moved so did his arm with it, a gentle pull at Harry's hole. Louis was _gone_ , his kiss uncharacteristically messy and wet. “You're so fucking perfect here. And I'm the only one who knows it. You're all mine.”

“Do it in and out, then,” Harry blurted out. “I need to feel you move, please.”

Harry felt Louis' two fingers slide slowly out. Louis kept withdrawing until Harry got scared he was about to lose him completely, but at the last minute Louis changed direction and started pushing back in again, his fingers pressing up towards Harry's belly.

Harry felt his cock twitch. Peering between his thighs, he saw he was already hard again. Maybe it was just the mess from coming before, but Harry was pretty sure he was dripping precome again too.

Louis' eyes looked crazy. _Crazy for Harry._ He was panting frantically as he slid his fingers in and out of Harry's hole.

He started off slow, a steady rocking beckon that Harry felt inside himself, at points uncomfortable but mostly just mind-blowing, popping bubbles of ecstasy right through him. It made his belly jump and his cock faintly pulse. It made air catch in his throat as Harry tried in vain to catch his breath, feeling deliciously dirty all over from a sheen of sweat.

Louis closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if he was shutting off his other senses to focus in on what his fingers felt.

Harry did the same, closing his eyes and shifting his consciousness to – to his asshole, his _fucking asshole_. Harry gasped as Louis started speed up, his fingers pushing at Harry and feeling nice and deep, and then they were sliding out again -

Harry tightened his abs and dug his arms into the bed, tried to push his bum up into it – but the jerk was too strong or he was too inexperienced on where to angle it, and Louis' fingers slipped right out.

Harry thought if either of them had been just a little calmer, it's the sort of thing they would have had a quick giggle about. They were both frantic though, staring at each other in awe, boiling hot and magnetically close together on a king size bed in a hotel room that smelled like massage oil, sweat, lube, and come.

Louis only slid one finger back in. Harry could feel it, smaller.

Harry didn't need less than before, he needed more - well, he didn't know what he needed, he didn't know what he could take, but he did know what Louis taught him when _he_ wanted three fingers.

"Trois!" Harry begged. He was too frantic to get the R to sound right, but all things considered, it wasn't a bad effort.

Louis did start chuckling then, so hard that his teeth dug into the side of Harry's knee, gently shaking Harry's whole body from above.

“ _Trois_ fingers, please!” Harry implored."You're such a shit," Louis gasped through his laughter, but he slid his one finger out.

"You're just saying that, right?" Harry didn't want to be insecure, but he had to check. "I'm not really a s-word, am I?"

" _Mon petit,_ " Louis said, and then he beamed at Harry and spoke in his French-accented English; "Baby. You're so good, you're _my_ good boy. My good boy."

The part of Harry that knew it was wrong to belong to a _man_ was dead silent. Or maybe it was just dead.

“ _Trois?_ ” Louis confirmed, holding up three fingers. “Are you sure?”Harry's insides seared, the need burning through him so strong it was embarrassing. “I'm sure.”

When Harry felt three fingertips nudge at his slick rim, he let out another steady breath. Louis pushed in.

This one burned too bad to take. Harry shook his head hard, clenching his eyes shut to fight the prickling of tears. “Ow, ow, _ow!_ Stop. Stop!” Harry sobbed.

Louis' fingers mercifully slid out.

Harry opened his eyes, seeing Louis wipe his hand quickly off on the sheet. Louis leaned to the side as Harry gingerly lowered his feet down onto the bed.

Harry just wanted to be brave, wanted to be good for Louis, but another sob cracked out of his mouth.

Louis moved up by Harry's shoulders, sliding his arms under Harry's armpits and pulling Harry up to lean against his chest.

Harry curled his body into Louis, trying to keep his tears quiet, but his body shook and his eyes kept dripping and fat tears were falling off his cheeks onto Louis' shoulder.

Louis let him cry, keeping his arms wrapped tight around Harry and rocking him side to side, his cheek smoothing over the top of Harry's hair.

There was something clawing at Harry's chest and he felt like he needed to let it out, but it wasn't sadness. He was just completely overwhelmed.

This was all he needed. He just needed to cry for a bit while Louis' strong, warm arms held him close, cradling him, slowly swaying. Harry buried his face down at Louis' chest, pressing in so he could hear the regular beat of Louis' heart - so his own heart could hear it, hear what a steady beat sounded like and calm down again to match it.

“I'm not sad,” Harry told Louis in between teary gasps.“It's okay. _Je suis vraiment désolé,_ ” Louis apologised, full of remorse.That made Harry want to cry harder. He took a deep breath, which came out in a shake. “Don't.

Because I'm not lying. I'm not sad.”“Really?” Louis asked, like he didn't believe it.

“I promise. I'm just... you made me feel so good and I got so worked up, it was all good good good. But then the last thing hurt a lot, it hurt too much. Only the last thing hurt, I promise.”

“I'm so sorry,” Louis said again quietly, but he gave Harry a squeeze and kissed the top of his head. “I don't ever want to hurt you again, okay? And I'm very proud of you for saying no and getting me to stop, and I'm very proud of everything you did before that, too.”

They just sat like that for a while, curled up naked on the bed until Harry's tears had all dried up and he felt like a stupid little baby for crying in the first place. Louis was the best person in the world - even though Harry hadn't gotten to fly across the world like he'd wanted to, he still knew it was true. He'd be meeting hundreds, even thousands of new people on the MM tour, and he already knew Louis was the best person he'd ever find.

Harry broke the long silence by easing a leg over Louis to sit over his lap. He kissed Louis gently before sucking on his bottom lip and then taking it between his teeth, pulling back a little. Louis gave the softest little grunt.

Then he gave a small chuckle. “'Arry. It's almost five-thirty. We can't keep doing this every night, you need to sleep. What if we find out you're filming tomorrow?”

“All right. I'll sleep,” Harry agreed. “I've just got one question.”

Louis nodded.

“The massage oil,” Harry started, trailing uncertain fingers down Louis' torso.

“ _Oui..._ ” Louis said slowly.

Harry looked up at Louis from under his eyelashes. “Would it be good for fucking my thighs, do you think?”

\-----

Harry had laid down on his back again, bringing his knees to his chest. Louis smoothed excess amounts of massage oil in between his thighs, the sweet smell of it only half-masking the fact that Harry smelled like a sweaty teenage boy.

Louis was so proud.

He couldn't help but push Harry's legs closer to his chest, stealing a look at Harry's hole. Harry was pink and still so small and that's all Louis needed; he was harder than he'd ever been in his life.

Louis yanked both of Harry's feet to rest up on his shoulder, pausing to turn and kiss Harry on the ankle.

Louis then grabbed his cock and slid in between Harry's thighs, that were hot, slippery-smooth, plush. He leant each arm down on either side of Harry, keeping the boy curled up and contained.

Louis began to steadily thrust and Harry let out a high moan of delight.

It wasfrustrating, though, because Louis now knew for sure what Harry's ass felt like, and this was completely different; far too big a space for Louis to fuck, at best an easy pressure around him. Louis felt stupid and angry and selfish -

Until he felt it all tighten considerably. Harry had gotten his hands between his thighs, his fingers were flat either side of Louis' cock forming ribbed walls that squeezed at Louis tightly.

“ _Oui Harry, oui, J'aime ça!_ ” Louis moaned, thrusting sharp into the firm relief Harry was providing.

“Can I put a finger in? Just one?” Louis gasped, lifting a hand off the bed.

Harry nodded, pulling his lower lip up in between his teeth. His face tightened a little, bracing himself, and when Louis circled Harry's rim with his fingertip Harry felt very, very tight.

Louis pulled himself right back, out of Harry's thighs, and braced the back of Harry's knees with one hand. He pushed Harry up, diving straight for his rim.

Louis lapped at him hungrily, not caring about the mess from Harry's skin getting all over his face: lube and sweat and massage oil. It just drove Louis wild, being so close to where Harry was sticky and dirty and wet, tasting like sweet coconut and salty skin.

Harry squealed and squirmed. His hands left Louis' hair and he tried to hold his ass cheeks apart but it was useless. Louis panted in awe as he watched Harry's hands fight but find no grip on his slick skin, sliding right off again.

Harry whined pathetically, like it wasn't fair that he couldn't be spread open.

Louis grabbed both of Harry's wrists and forced them down onto the bed, pinning them there as he ran a tight tongue over Harry's rim.

“Tongue – _in,_ please try!” Harry yelped, his whole body twisting and his arms jolting under Louis' grip.

Louis would have loved to tease him, ease off completely and lick lazy lines over Harry's ass cheeks and thighs, then barely tickle his rim, maybe nibble his flesh a little, maybe bite hard and leave his thighs marked red and blue - but anything short of full-force effort would have taken the strength of a Greek god.

Louis just pushed his mouth in as close to Harry's base as he could, moaning obscenely as he pushed his tongue right into Harry's tight, wet hole.

“Oh, _no!_ ” Harry gasped in meek shock and it turned into a yelp, his asshole tightening so hard that Louis' tongue was forced right back out.

Louis snapped his head up so quickly he may have given himself whiplash. It was worth it, to get to yank Harry's legs down and watch his cock twitch and pulse as he came untouched, shooting four steady white lines to land up on his own chest.

Louis couldn't fathom how the boy had that much come left in him – youth truly was a gift.

Louis practically pounced on Harry, pulling Harry's legs up then shoving his cock in between them, reaching below to slip a finger back into Harry's little hole. His finger slid in easy and this time, though Harry was still tiny and snug, his rim just felt somewhat soft and relaxed.

Louis moved his finger inside Harry, pushing and beckoning in time with his thrusts. He had to fight to resist the urge to pull at Harry's rim, stretching him open, but it wasn't too hard – Harry was precious and Louis just wanted to preserve it.

Harry looked totally blown-out, proper beads of sweat forming on his upper lip, his mouth and cheeks flushed red and his eyelashes stuck together from damp eyes, he still managed to look _angelic._

His sparkly green eyes looked glassy, slowly focusing on Louis as Louis leant forward, still jutting his hips against Harry's thighs, Harry squeezing his legs in tight around Louis' cock.

“Oh, my god, Louis, your finger – with your hips, it looks like- ” Harry's voice was tiny in awe. “It's like you're having sex with me,” he peeped, and that was it.

Louis lunged in as close as he could, grabbing Harry's chin even though he couldn't kiss him properly, all he could do was grip Harry's jaw and press his scorching mouth against Harry's lips, not needing to thrust a single time more as he came. He shouted weakly against Harry as his cock _throbbed_ , coming in between Harry's thighs, shooting pearly drops down onto Harry's belly with more force than Louis knew was possible. He heard it land on Harry in tiny splats.

Not waiting to compose himself because he'd probably never be composed again, Louis gently slid his finger out and guided Harry's trembling legs back down.

Harry looked utterly debauched, his lips plump and wet, open and gasping, several tiny puddles of mixed come across his stomach and chest.

Louis laid splayed fingers and flat palms on Harry's torso, wiping come and oil across Harry's shiny chest. “Harry,” he praised. “You look _filthy_ , it's so beautiful, you're such a good boy.”

Harry just reached for Louis' hand, dragging it to his mouth and licking all over. Without swallowing, Harry said, “Kiss me.”

Louis lay down on the bed beside Harry, pulling him in close so they were touching at every point possible. Tired and lazy, he licked into Harry's mouth, tasting creamy-sharp come mixed with coconut massage oil, sweet and reminiscent of the beach.

Las Vegas was their little paradise.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Louis kept his promise and stayed up, watching Harry sleep. If the boy twitched, hinting at a nightmare, Louis combed his fingers through his curls until he was still again.

Louis looked at his bruised hand, moving through Harry's brown hair. How strange to think that hand had punched Patrick Demarchelier and then slid crooked fingers right inside Harry, all in the one night.

Too much happened each day in America, Louis decided. Working back in Paris had been fast- paced and jam-packed, yes, but a time always came each night to drink a bottle of red and fall asleep on the couch.

There was no rest for the wicked in America.

Maybe it wasn't America.Maybe it was trying to keep up with a teenager.Harry had been drunk when he said it, but still. He didn't have to call Louis _old._

Louis turned over to his other side. By the soft light of the morning, he inspected his face in the mirror by the wardrobe.

His reflection gave him a satisfied smile. He didn't look old. He looked fantastic.

Louis turned back over to Harry, but the movement woke the boy up and he let in a sharp breath, clumsily sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Mm, we've gotta get up,” he said sleepily.

“Non, mon petit,” Louis reassured him, trying to get him to lie back down. “You've barely had two hours' sleep. No plans for the day yet.”

Harry resisted Louis' tug, clambering out of bed. “Come on Louis, get up, church.”

Louis paused, waiting for the laugh, but Harry wasn't joking. He'd already started rifling through the small hotel wardrobe, picking out an outfit.

Picking out an outfit for church.Picking out an outfit _without consulting Louis._

 

“Why church?” Louis asked, sitting up.

“It's Sunday,” Harry stated, pulling on an undershirt.

“Don't go.” Louis patted the bed. “We had such a late night last night, we need more sleep.”

“No, we need to go to church,” Harry said, shaking out a pair of pants to slip into.

“You don't _need_ to go. You didn't go last week,” Louis pointed out.

“Um, yes, I need to go.” Harry paused his movements to give Louis a semi-scathing look. “And I did go last week, in Austin. Of course I went.”

“Your uncles took you to church?”“No, I took myself,” Harry said crossly. “I'm not a baby, I don't need to be _taken_ places.”

“Right, of course. I'm sorry. Oh, come on _mon petit-ami_ , stay in bed with me,” Louis coaxed. “It's far too early for a Sunday morning. Sundays are for sleeping in.”

“No, Sundays are for church!” Harry argued easily. “That's what normal people do, they go to church!”

“And I'm not normal?” Louis asked pointedly.

“No, you -” Harry looked torn. “You are normal, you just...” He sat down on the bed by Louis. “Look, you don't have to come.”

“I know I don't,” Louis said. Louis caught Harry's chin in his fingers, peering into his green eyes, waiting.

Harry leant in, pressing a closed-lipped kiss to Louis' mouth. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “You're normal.”

“Even though I'm French?” “Yes.” Harry smiled. “Even though I'm old?” “You're not old.”

“Even though I'm gay?”Harry didn't answer the question, just said, “Go on, go back to sleep.” More than tired, Louis willingly lay back down.Harry gave Louis' forehead a chaste kiss, and left the room.

“Louis?” he called out from the bathroom. “I'm using your toothbrush.”Louis muffled a chuckle into his pillow. “Can you get us both new ones while you're out?”

Once Harry had left, Louis hadn't had time to fall back asleep before his phone rang. Jeremy. “Louiss. How fast can you pack?”

“ _It's Lou-_ oh, fuck it,” Louis actually said out loud, giving up on Jeremy's pronunciation. He'd tried for a good three weeks. He was done. “Pack?”

“Mm-hm. Weather's cleared, whole team's about to fly up to Vegas, got a lot of shooting to complete today, filming with the live audience tomorrow.”

“So why do I need to pack?” Louis clarified.

“You're off to Paris!” Jeremy said cheerily. “CNTV's got another show that's filming an episode there, we'd like you to meet them and consult on wardrobe.”

“Is that even-”

“Contractual? Absolutely,” Jeremy interrupted confidently, and that was the end of the matter. “You'll get a bonus for it, though. We're a generous company. The wardrobe assistants can cover for you on Modern Missionary while you're away. You do plan out all the outfits in advance, right?”

“Yes,” Louis lied. _Merde_.“A car will take you to the airport in an hour.”“But -” Louis didn't know how long Harry would be at church for...and _he did not want to go back to Paris._ __“How long?” Louis asked, frustrated. “How long will I be away?”“The show's only there for a week,” Jeremy said, like that was good news. “A week?” Louis said incredulously.

“Let me be frank with you, Louiss,” Jeremy said. “You really did us a solid with the Fendi event. We missed a lot of shooting that day and we really needed some extra footage. It was risky, but it was the best option we had.”

“Risky?” Louis sighed. He'd _told_ Jeremy that any attention on him in the fashion world would be from people who know he was out, had always been out. He'd told Jeremy it was a terrible plan.

“We need to continue to generate interest in the show, getting Harry to cross Christian media into mainstream media. That kind of press is invaluable, and the media team's telling me the Fendi event has definitely worked. It's just, because it was _you_ , because it was _fashion_...”

“Risky,” Louis repeated, huffing.

“The best plan of action from here is that now the rest of the team can meet back up with Harry, we can work on some more photo opportunities for him. Make sure he's still viewed as wholesome.”

“So you're getting me out of the picture for a week?”

“It's Paris, Louiss!” Jeremy laughed, like getting shipped off to Paris was a good thing. “I'll leave you to pack.”

The line clicked dead.

“ _Quel connard!_ ” Louis shouted, almost throwing his phone across the room. “ _Lui qui a un balai dans le cul, qu'il se prenne une bite pour une fois, ça lui apprendra_ ,” he went on, though no one was listening.

Louis was aware that being in an industry like fashion, he'd been fortunate to be surrounded by people who completely accepted him his whole adult life. This – this _hiding him overseas_ , like he was shameful – this was new. It itched at him under his skin and he needed Harry, needed Harry to touch him, _hit_ him so the intolerable itch went away.

Louis reigned in his anger and searched for Harry's number, but Harry, still in church, had his phone turned off. _How respectful._ Louis rolled his eyes, getting his suitcases out.

 _Va te faire enculer, Jeremy Wash, tu me fais chier,_ Louis hissed under his breath, hurling clothes into bags. Louis didn't bother folding them, he just took great delight at the thought of getting them all dry-cleaned and pressed in Paris on Jeremy's dollar. Some of Harry's shit landed in his suitcase too, and he didn't care – until Harry's beautiful blue Prada sweater caught on the suitcase's zipper. Louis was so irritated that he didn't gently unhook it, he just yanked it hard, then watched in horror as the knit began to unravel.

Louis took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

He went to the hotel suite's phone, ordering coffee. Irish coffee. His eyes fell on a stray Burberry bag in the kitchen and he sighed, realising he'd have to sew up a new couch cushion cover in a real hurry.

\-----

Harry had barely closed the hotel door behind him when a blur of Louis hurtled through the entrance of the suite, pinning Harry against the wall and ripping his shirt open. Harry heard at least two buttons fly off and drop onto the floor as Louis' hands grabbed at his chest, pressing into his skin.

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry gasped in shock; Louis was _damaging clothes,_ “What are y-” but he was cut off by a hot and urgent kiss to his mouth, Louis gasping desperately, hands coming up to pull on Harry's hair harder than was necessary.

Harry blinked as he adjusted to the situation, taking a second to decide to kiss back.

Louis dropped down to Harry's neck, licking it, yanking the curls on Harry's head back to further expose it. “Jeremy's sending me back to Paris,” he said in between scorching kisses.

“Forever?” Harry yelped.“Non, non! For a week, I think,” Louis said. He didn't sound happy about it.

“But you hate Paris.” Harry tried to keep his voice steady while Louis' mouth did obscene things against the pulse point of Harry's neck.

“I'll be fine.” Louis dropped to Harry's collarbone, teeth sinking in.

“Ow,” Harry protested, shoulders tensing up. “That hurts.”

“Good,” Louis said, clipping more bites onto Harry between words. “Want to mark you up, so it's on you when I'm gone. You're _mine._ ”

“Louis, _no,_ ” Harry said sternly, giving Louis a firm push back. “If you're not dressing me, someone else must be, what if they see?”

“ _Merde_ , you're right, sorry.” Louis stood back to catch his breath.

Harry heard Louis' phone buzz. Louis pulled it out of his pocket, tightening his mouth at the sight of the screen. “I've got to go. Like, right now – _non,_ forty-five minutes ago. You were gone forever 'Arry, how long does church _take!?_ ”

“Wait, I've got something for you.” Harry quickly pulled a brand new toothbrush out of his back pocket. He'd bought stupid novelty ones, the kind that probably _zero_ out of ten dentists recommend, but they'd had such a nice time in Vegas together and these toothbrushes had _Las Vegas_ printed on their glittery handles, and two tiny dice dangling off the end.

Not that Harry was old enough to have done any dice gambling in Las Vegas. He'd done some other things, though.

Louis inspected the toothbrush. “Cute. You got yourself a new one too?” “Yep, same one.”

A devilish smile took over Louis' face. “Don't have too much fun with it. The dice might get caught up your ass.”

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry gasped, swatting at Louis' arm. “I'm not gonna do _that_.” “Wonder what number you'd roll?” Louis wiggled his eyebrows.“Oh my gosh,” Harry mumbled, feeling himself blush with humiliation.

He was glad Louis was teasing him, though - glad that Louis thought the Toothbrush Incident was silly and funny, because if Louis didn't think it was disgusting, if he didn't think what Harry did was reprehensible and unspeakable, then maybe it wasn't. “You've got the necklace, _oui?_ ” Louis checked.

Harry didn't want to say he'd paused over it sitting on the bathroom sink and it had remained there, Harry unable to wear it into _church_. He just said, “Yes. I'll take care of it.”

“ _Bien._ " Placing the toothbrush between his teeth, Louis wrapped his hands around -

“Three suitcases, Louis? For one week?” Harry laughed. Three suitcases for a week; it was _so Louis_ , and Harry was so happy that he knew Louis like that, knew what was typical. “Here, I'll help you carry them down.”

“No, don't,” Louis said, as firm as someone could be while talking around a toothbrush. “Can't say goodbye in public. Can't say goodbye without touching you.”

_Jeepers._

“We're just friends, Louis,” Harry mumbled. “I'm not - there doesn't need to be a big emotional farewell.” He was starting to feel very not-big and very emotional, which was so stupid; a week was not a long amount of time. “It doesn't matter.”

“Okay,” Louis said, toothbrush still between his teeth.

Harry wanted to ask Louis if he'd miss him.He wanted to ask Louis if he'd kiss anyone in Paris.

He wanted to ask Louis if he might get there and remember it was better than America and just never come back.

Harry kind of maybe wanted to cry and beg Louis to stay because he didn't want to be alone in strange cities.

“I'm sure Linda will call you, but the whole team's coming to Vegas in a few hours. You're filming today,” Louis said. He dribbled around the toothbrush while talking, jutting his head forward to let it fall on the floor instead of his shirt.

“You're beautiful,” Harry teased, prying the toothbrush out of Louis' teeth and stuffing it into one of his bags.

Louis had gotten his three suitcases out the door when Harry stopped him. “Do you think they really need you in Paris, Louis?”

“ _Oui_ , I'm sorry - some other CNTV show is filming there. Jeremy says they need a wardrobe consult. I think I'll just be a glorified translator, though _._ ”

“I don't get it. It's such short notice,” Harry said helplessly. “Why...?” Louis hesitated for a minute.

Harry raised his eyebrows, expectant. “No secrets,” he reminded Louis.“Okay, look.” Louis sighed. “I think they really do need me to help out on the other show. They also needed me to help you get filmed at the Fendi event, _oui?_ ” “Yes,” Harry said slowly, not connecting the dots.

“But that was only because they were stuck in Seattle and couldn't shoot what they'd planned to shoot. A fashion show with me was a last resort.”

“But better than dead air in the Modern Missionary timeslot.” Harry nodded.

“Mm-hm.” Louis nodded too. “You're not supposed to hang out with gay people, and I don't know if any real media outlet has properly taken the Eleanor story yet, so. Jeremy needs to do image control and the easiest thing for that is to get me out of the picture for a bit.”

“Wow.” Harry nodded. It all seemed a bit unfair. “Wish I could come with you.” “No, you don't,” Louis dismissed. “It's Paris.”

“I do,” Harry insisted. “I want to go overseas.” _And I want to be with you -_ Harry tried to shake the thought out of his head.

Louis checked the time once more and grimaced, tapping his foot nervously and looping his fingers between Harry's, tracing over Harry's hand's with his thumb. He echoed Harry's words from before, “We're just friends?”

Harry gave a shaky nod...Then asked, “Maybe friends who kiss goodbye?”

Even though the suite door was wide open, Louis pushed Harry against the wall again, kissing him on the lips. “You be good while I'm away, mon petit.” His hands gripped Harry's hips, thumbs stroking close to where Harry was starting to tighten under fabric. “Don't-” Louis kissed Harry deeply, then pulled back, “don't listen to the bullshit people tell you-” he kissed Harry again, “and think-” another kiss - “fucking _think_ before-” an open-mouthed kiss, “you open your own mouth, and-”

Louis' phone buzzed again. He swore loudly and stomped out the door, unceremoniously shutting it behind himself.

Harry looked around, recovering from the short, intense interaction.

The suite was too big for only one person. And Louis had left Harry with a stiffy.

Which, if you were keeping count, would be Harry's second for the day; the church he'd gone to had recited the Lord's prayer, which took Harry's mind back to a morning in Los Angeles, knelt up against a bed mattress with Louis' stern voice in his ear...

\-----

Louis got a text from Eleanor while he waited for the plane to take off, arrogantly declining to to turn his phone off just yet.

She'd linked him to a gossip site's blind items page, her only comment, _'????'_ Louis scrolled, reading. One item in particular leapt out at him.

_Mon dieu! What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay there. Which sly frog recently spent the night with a young man in novelty couple's suite? Watch out, les enfants, the cradle's being snatched!!!_

Louis called Eleanor.“What am I supposed to be looking at?” he tried.“Don't you play innocent. The one that's written half in French.”

“All right, all right.” Louis laughed in what he hoped was an easygoing way. “We got in pretty late on the first night, and I was tired – in case you don't remember, I was drinking with you 'til all hours the night before in Seattle. I arrive in Vegas with Harry, the room has one bed. I couldn't really be bothered moving rooms, and the whole point of the novelty suite was so Harry wouldn't get bored. He didn't want to get downgraded to a normal room either.”

“Wait – that's about _Harry_?” Eleanor confirmed. She sighed in relief. “I thought you'd had someone else up to your room, like – you know, _up in your room_. So some idiot's seen you there with Harry and not realised who he was and thought you were like – an item?”

“Guess so.”

“That's hilarious.” Eleanor laughed. “You and Harry, imagine. Not in a million years.”

Louis was both insulted and reassured.

“We were in the same suite,” Louis confirmed, figuring it was easy to get as close to the truth as possible without – well. “I took the couch. No big deal.”

“It's a big deal if this shit's getting printed, though,” Eleanor said. “It's written like you had someone else up there with you _._ ”

“Not printed,” Louis pointed out. “Just posted online. People talk, who cares?”

“If a rumour gets out that you're seeing someone who isn't me, your 'girlfriend', then yeah – I care,” Eleanor emphasised. “You've got the wardrobe position, but this beard gig is my entire job _._ Everyone has to believe we're together or I'm screwed, I've got a one-way ticket back to LA and no income.”

“Right, well, next time Linda fucks up a booking and my poor legs are cramped up on a couch, I'll worry about _you,_ ” Louis said wryly. “I better go now, sorry.”

“Have fun in Par-ee, my dear boyfriend,” Eleanor joked. “Stay faithful. Actually – don't. It's better you get it out of your system there, than back here.”

“Love you forever,” Louis joked back. _And take care of Harry, will you?_ was on the tip of his tongue, but Eleanor hung up before he could say it.

Louis kept pulling out his phone and re-reading the blind item.

Was it a good enough excuse, to say that the person who tipped off the site – whoever the fuck it was, hotel staff, maybe - saw Harry and Louis, yes, sharing a couple's suite; sharing the suite as coworkers, while Louis slept on the couch, and whoever had done the tip-off didn't realise that Harry was a coworker and thought he was a boy-toy and just thought... well, shit.

Thought that Louis had eaten Harry out while he did a live radio interview over the phone? Thought he'd gone on to deepthroat the boy? Thought that Harry had rimmed Louis in a disco- lighted bathroom, then bent him over the couch and spanked him 'til he came all over the armrest? Thought that Louis had made an absolute mess of Harry in the wee hours of the morning, slicked him top-to-toe in massage oil and fingered him then licked inside him and made him come twice? Thought that they'd both been falsely secure in the suite and stupidly made a whole lot lot of noise, between the slaps and the grunts and the orgasmic cries?

They wouldn't be wrong.

 _Hey, Eleanor_. Louis quickly typed out. _Quiet on the blind item front, yeah? Harry's got enough on his shoulders with the show, let's not worry about it unless the social media girls catch sight of it. There were plenty of French men over for the Fendi opening anyway, it could be anyone. Oh, that reminds me. Got you a bunch of tacky Fendi shit. It's hideous. You'll love it. Left it with Harry._

Louis was worried, though; with the half-million twitter followers he'd gotten in the past couple of weeks, he suspected that the social media girls were very good at their job.

He typed a message for Harry, too:

_Eleanor knows we shared a couple's suite_

Louis stared at the word 'couple' for a second, then backspaced.

_Eleanor knows we shared the suite w/ one bed. Told her took the couch. See you soon._

Planes weren't the same without Harry sleeping by his side. Which - was fine, of course.

After thirteen odd years in the industry, various fashion weeks and fabric sourcing quests and shooting-on-location and styling celebrities on whatever corner of the globe they happened to be, Louis was no stranger to airplane trips on his own.

It was fine.

\-----

“Hey brother,” Harry's sister sung down the phone.

“Gemma,” Harry replied. “It's good to hear your voice. How are you?”

“I'm fine,” Gemma said, her tone immediately getting serious. “Look, I've got to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Harry said, unsure. “What's up?”

“You know people are talking about you, right? Like, a lot. Everyone from church is emailing links around.”

“Okay,” Harry repeated. Was that bad?

“You need to stop hanging out with Louis,” Gemma suddenly demanded. “It looks really, really bad.”

“Looks bad?” Harry echoed.

“Here...” Gemma said, and Harry heard her typing on her computer in the background. “ _Louis Tomlinson and mystery boy leave Hard Rock Cafe in New York._ He's holding your hand, Harry! It's disgusting!”

“Disgusting?”

“Yes! And you know what else is disgusting? _CNTV's Harry Styles had a very early morning breakfast with fashion guru Louis Tomlinson on Hollywood boulevard._ Interesting shirt, Harry. Looks exactly like the one Louis was wearing at a club in New York City. I can't believe you went clubbing, by the way, but that's not the point here. Point is Harry, this is disgusting, it needs to stop.”

“He'd washed the top,” Harry defended. “And the show's producer told Louis to take me out that night. I don't see what the problem is?”

“You can't wear a gay man's clothes, that's gross!” Gemma stressed. “And you can't hold hands with him!”

“He was holding my hand to help me get away from the paparazzi!” Harry protested. “And in case you've forgotten, you tried to kiss Louis.”

Gemma ignored his comment. “A fashion show, Harry? That's so gay. Louis is a really bad influence, okay, you need to see-”

“Oh _ta gueule!_ ” Harry yelled. “Just _shut up._ You don't know anything. Fashion shows aren't gay, there were chicks with bare boobs in the show, Zayn Malik was in it and he's engaged to a woman!”

“Don't yell at me!” Gemma shot back. “I'm trying to help you, Louis is-”

“You don't know shit about Louis.” Harry's stomach dropped when he realised he'd sworn – in English - in front of his sister.

“Harry...” she slowly warned.

“Did you see the photos of him at the soup kitchen? He volunteered at a church in LA for a whole afternoon.”

“No he didn't.”“Yes he did! Google it, you stupid - thing!”

“Well no one here's emailing those links around,” Gemma said, as if that meant it didn't count. “But everyone's talking about how Louis is a bad influence on you.”

“He's my friend!” Harry hollered, a lump forming in his throat. “He's my friend and thanks to idiots like you gossiping about him so much, he's getting sent to Paris for a week and I'm going to be all alone.”

“It's probably for the best.”

“You don't know what's the best! Louis makes me happy!” Harry then bit his own lip to stop himself from saying too much.

“There's better people out there who will be your friend. There's good Christian people working on your TV show.”

“Oh, pick up a bible once in a while,” Harry said scathingly. “Jesus hung out with prostitutes and lepers all the time. I think I can hang out with one gay person.”

“That's different,” Gemma insisted.“Leave me alone!” Harry hung up the phone.Guilt instantly washed over him for not saying goodbye.

\-----

 _Je deteste Paris,_ Louis muttered under his breath as as he hauled all three suitcases straight to a dry-cleaner's.

He hated Paris but what's more, he hated how it was home; hated how he knew which dry-cleaner to go to, knew to ask for Robbie, knew to pick up a bottle of wine on the way to give to Robbie to ensure the clothes would be returned within hours.

Louis hated how his feet took him to a sidestreet creperie, hated how the pimply teenager who seated him recognised him; “ _Louis! Ça va?_ ”, hated how his whole body seemed to burst with light at the first taste of real, good coffee he'd had in weeks.

He ordered another, and another, then switched to wine. After a bottle or so of that, Louis forgot that he shouldn't be eating junk and ordered crepes with vanilla ice cream, but the ice cream reminded him of Harry so he paid and left without taking a bite, stumbling back to his hotel – hating how even drunk, he knew Paris like the back of his hand.

Whoever the Linda-equivalent of this other show was, they'd booked a hotel by the river. Heading across a footbridge, Louis was stopped by a man with a case of jewellery hanging from a strap around his neck. “Something for your sweetheart?” he started.

Louis just stared at him in horror.The man had spoken to him in English.He thought Louis was a _tourist_.Louis proved French was his mother tongue with a few gratuitous insults, then stomped off.

The hotel room was awful.

The bed was enormous and incredibly comfortable, a teasing reminder of how Louis didn't like to sleep – and _that_ was a reminder to the sudden realisation that he'd sort of been sleeping all right in America, at least the nights in which he'd shared a bed with Harry.

Harry, with his angelic chocolate curls and cupid's bow lips, the sweet way he pouted while he slept, _he_ belonged in a plush four-poster bed in Paris.

Not Louis, not when he was alone.

Louis was sure he could smell the river. He was several stories up and hadn't opened the balcony doors, but he could definitely smell it, and he hated it. His clothes had been delivered from the dry-cleaner, and now they were going to smell like _river._

Louis hated it and he knew no matter how much he hated it, Harry would have loved it. Harry would have thrown the balcony doors open and breathed in the air and not cared that it smelled would have thrown the balcony doors open and breathed in the air and not cared that it smelled like river. Harry would have run downstairs to listen to accordion players busking by the riverbank.

Louis would have rolled his eyes... but then chased Harry down there, would have given Harry coins to give to the musicians, whispered in his ear what song to request, dragged Harry off halfway through the song to find somewhere private to kiss him, find somewhere with good fresh bread and buy it, fill it with gruyere and ham, tear bits off and hand-feed it to the boy, his boy...

Louis just groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.The sight of the river reminded him of the movie he'd taken Harry to see, where they'd -

Who the _fuck_ booked a hotel right on the Seine for a _business trip?_

Louis' self-indulgent moping was interrupted when the hotel phone rang, jarring in the late hour. “ _Bonsoir?_ ” Louis answered pointedly, perhaps a little rude from the wine.

“ _Désolé, monsieur,_ ” the conversation started. It was quickly acknowledged that, yes, it was late to be calling, but the clerk had already left three messages for Louis and he wasn't sure if Louis had read them yet. Someone had been calling every half hour on the dot for most of the evening, and although they said it wasn't urgent, they'd kept calling over and over, not ceasing to hope Louis would have gotten to his room by then.

It dawned on Louis: “Harry.” No one else could be so fucking annoying.

“ _Oui, Harry Styles, c’est ce qui est écrit._ ”

'Written here' - Louis could only imagine how many times the poor clerk had to write it down.

Every half hour, Harry had called for Louis?

“Did you want to be put through to the number he left, sir?”

“That's fine, I'll call him from my phone.”

And when Louis plugged his phone in and it lit up, there were indeed more than a few missed calls and texts from Harry.

Bless him.

Harry answered on the first ring.“ _Mon petit, c'est moi,_ ” Louis said automatically. “Louis?” Harry's voice was frantic.

“Are you expecting calls in French from someone else?” Louis joked, but Harry didn't laugh. There was just a pause.

Louis heard Harry whisper, “ _Frick.”_ __“What's wrong?” Louis swapped the phone to his other ear, lying down in the bed. “The hotel said you left a message?”

“Nothing's wrong.” Harry's voice was quiet, with what Louis recognised as embarrassment. “I – um. It's just you didn't reply to my texts so I thought, what if they weren't going through? I wouldn't get to talk to you at all for a whole week. So...”

“So?”“So I panicked and called the hotel. A couple of times. I'm sorry.”

“Just a couple?” Louis wondered if his amusement was audible. “I hadn't charged my phone yet, I'm sorry I missed your messages.”

“No – it's.” Harry stopped short. Louis could hear things he couldn't actually hear, like the way Harry must looked pained, how he was probably nervously poking a thumb into the seat of the chair he was sitting in, maybe chewing his lip. “It's not like I'd care if I couldn't get on to you for a week,” Harry went on. “It's only a week, I'd be fine. I just wanted, to, like... check you got in okay.”

“I did,” Louis said cautiously. _It's not like I'd care?_ “How've you been, anyway?”

“We filmed, yesterday and today,” Harry said, which didn't answer the question. “Yesterday with, like, these girls who dance in clubs in Vegas. They said they don't want to do it any more. So we prayed with them and stuff.”

“Ah-huh,” Louis said non-committally.

“It was pretty scripted,” Harry said awkwardly. “Jeremy didn't exactly say if they were really dancers or not. Isn't that, like, lying?”

“Well,” Louis stalled. It wasn't really up to him, in the end. “ _Modern Missionary_ isn't specifically a reality TV show, more of a talk show?”

“The out-on-the-field bits are supposed to be reality,” Harry said. Another pause. “I think it's lying.”

“Well. Maybe wait and see how they edit the episode,” Louis suggested. “If you don't like it, you can talk to Jeremy about doing it differently the next time there's a segment like that.”

“Good idea."

Louis was slightly drunk, and even he could still tell the conversation was stilted and awkward.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Louis just wished he was there, he'd be able to tell straight away by Harry's face. “You're a bit quiet, or something.”

“I messed up,” Harry confessed. “I think it's okay though.”“What happened?” Louis asked, hating how he felt the fear rise up in his belly, _what if we're caught, what if we're caught, what if_.“Since Eleanor's new to the team they didn't have a room booked for her and Linda said she could just share the suite with me, now you're gone. Since everyone thinks there was two beds here.” “That's okay, I messaged you, I told Eleanor-”“You told her you took the couch,” Harry interrupted. “I told her _I_ took the couch.”The fear rose up higher.

“I think I saved it okay,” Harry said. “I told her I meant since you'd had the couch, it was my turn, and she could have the bed.”

“I'm sorry,” Louis said quietly, which wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. Harry said some platitude, but Louis missed it, busy mentally kicking himself.

“Will you bring me back a souvenir?” Harry blurted out. “I mean, you don't have to be thinking of me, or anything. It's just that I've never been overseas, I used to collect souvenirs from my friends who went on missions.”

“Depends. Where are you going next?” Louis asked.

“Phoenix. It's in Arizona. Then down to Tucson.”

“Will you get _me_ something?” Louis fired back.

Harry laughed, and the sound was reassuring to Louis. “I don't know what I can get there. A cactus?”

“I don't want a cactus.” Louis laughed too. “What do you want?” Harry asked.

Louis didn't know how to say, _I want to fall asleep knowing that your stupid slow voice and stupid big hands will be waking me up before I want to wake up._

“Just find me something,” Louis decided. “And I'll find you something. And when I get back to America we'll swap, _oui?_ ”

“All right.”

“Of course I'll be thinking of you, Harry,” Louis added softly. “I haven't stopped thinking about you since I left America.”

Harry said, “Same,” his voice so quiet that Louis pressed the phone closer to his ear. He was glad he did, because he caught the world's meekest, “I already miss you.”

Harry then changed the subject. “Is it good being around people speaking French?” “I guess so,” Louis said noncommittally, because the answer was both yes and no. Louis then heard someone in the background say, “ _Ready for Harry!”_ __“I've got to go," Harry said. “But I don't want to.”

“I do too, it's okay,” Louis reassured him. “It's 2am here.” “Will you say something in French?” Harry asked. “ _Bonne nuit?_ ” Louis tried.“Not that one.”

“You're after something specific?” Louis clarified. “Yes,” was all Harry gave him.“How about.. _au revoir?_ ” Louis guessed.“No, not that one either.”

“ _À bientôt?_ ” and then Louis felt a dull burn in his chest when he realised what Harry was looking for. Louis could hear his own voice dropping sickeningly soft as he whispered, “ _Je t'aime, mon petit-ami._ ”

“That's the one,” Harry breathed, and promptly ended the call.

Louis just stared at the phone for a while.

Surprisingly, a text from Harry came through not too long after. _Craft services has Ben & Jerrys. Tastes better in a blanket fort. Went with the healthy choice instead, _and he'd signed off with three banana emojis.

Louis would have responded with a grumpy face, but Harry hadn't showed him how to install the emojis yet.

 _Show me_ , Louis typed before he could stop himself. _The banana?_ __ _Your mouth. I want to see your mouth. You've got such a good mouth. Jeepers, Louis. I'm on set!_ Was Harry's reply,But then another came through straight after; _Okay. Hold on._

Harry, bless him, committed to it - an excruciatingly long thirteen minutes later, a picture came through to Louis' phone. Harry, wide-eyed and mouth lolled open, banana peeled down to the base and pushed deep into his mouth. His lips were shiny – god, had he _licked them? -_ all rosy and plump, the way they curved and wrapped around the banana was perfectly sinful. His pale green eyes were practically sparkling through the photograph, opened big in innocence, and - jesus.

Louis was the only one who knew all the obscene things those green eyes had witnessed.It was as salacious as a photograph of Harry could get while still being legal.Harry was just so beautiful. More beautiful than Givenchy, than Cyrillus, than Isabel Marant.

Harry was the absolute best.

Louis stared at the photo for so long that the screen went dim. He clicked it back on, took one more look at Harry and the banana and unbuttoned his pants and pulled his cock out, squeezing himself with his eyes fixed on the photo.

The view was interrupted with a notification. Apparently the conversation wasn't over.

_Don't I get a picture back?_

Fully hard, Louis was briefly tempted to just close the notification, but he sighed and smiled, and switched to his messages.

_What do you want to see?_

_Paris,_ came Harry's reply.

Stepping out of his pants as he crossed the room and going out onto the balcony naked, Louis snapped a photo of la Tour Eiffel – it wasn't so close by, but you could easily tell what it was.

 _Not a bad view of the Eiffel tower from my hotel room, and all I can look at is you eating a banana,_ he captioned it.

 _I've had better things in my mouth,_ was Harry's reply.And – fuck Harry, fuck the fact that he'd gotten his first kiss mere weeks ago, fuck his innocence, fuck his naivety, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. _Miss you,_ Harry then sent. _Miss you too,_ Louis replied, stepping back inside his room. _Miss your mouth,_ he added. _Have to go film. :(_ Harry wrote back quickly. _Don't wanna go._ __Louis sighed. So close.

But then - _Girl covering for you doesn't know my size. Look what she had me try on before!_ and a close-up photo of Harry's crotch in way, way too-tight pants that showed off Harry's bulge – _large_ bulge - heavenly and rude. The fabric was so tight around him that Louis could see the outline of the head of Harry's cock, his thick length, his balls.

 _Hope you didn't let anyone see you in them,_ Louis wrote back, heart racing. _Only you. So....... enjoy. Really gotta go now sorry :(_

Merde, merde, _merde._

Louis was hard and horny and his little black book had long ago been digitalised, with two clicks he could have any number of French men arriving at this hotel room within the hour, armed with wine and condoms, but he didn't want any one of them. All he needed was this photo of Harry's perfect, sweet, wet mouth wrapped around a fucking banana.

And, god, he looked like he loved it. Someone else might defend Harry, say he just liked the fruit, but Louis knew. _Louis knew how much Harry loved it._

Crashing back down to the bed, Louis began to slowly run his hand over his own length as he thought back to the night Harry gave his first blowjob – determined hands digging into Louis' flesh as he slid his mouth down Louis' length; the boy had come in his pants, he loved to suck dick so much.

Loved _Louis_ so much - No, loved Louis' _dick -_ Loved -

Louis was so blind with lust he couldn't think straight, could only think about tugging at himself the same way back when he'd been straddling Harry's chest, could only think about how he came all over Harry's face and the teen's eyes had fluttered shut, his lips opening, so willing in his ecstasy, taking a faceful of come like it was a gift from god, just – everything about Harry; the fucking photograph, the corners where his lips parted to wrap around the banana, Louis wanted to plant tiny kisses there, wanted to trail his lips over Harry's cheek and down his neck and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, suck and bite and - _fuck_ , he should have just given Harry some lovebites, surely no one would care to look at Harry's collarbones so closely – and – fuck fuck _fuck_ , Harry was just so small and unspoiled and he had this youthful energy that lasted for hours – he could surely take Louis fucking him for hours.

Louis was breathing heavily, self-consciously trying to quiet the moans he was drawing out of himself, inhibited without a partner to encourage him to let go. The hand gripping his phone was now clammy, his whole body feeling hot, he was so fucking hard, his fingers wrapped firm around himself, gliding over his head, waiting for precome to begin beading out, promising relief was imminent -

 _Argh, false alarm. Lighting's not set up properly,_ came through from Harry.

And this time Louis did just close the notification, huffing in irritation, flicking back over to the picture of Harry's crotch-bulge instead. It made Louis' mouth water, it hadn't been more than a mere two or three days since he'd properly tasted the boy, but -

' _Harry Styles_ ' flashed big across the screen as the phone vibrated aggressively in Louis' palm.

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis answered, not meaning to sound so breathless. He forced himself to still his hand, but he couldn't let go.

“Lou? You sound a bit...”“I'm fine.” But the pained exhalation out the nose gave away Louis' lie. “Is there someone there?” Harry asked suspiciously.“No, I'm just – I'm by myself, I promise.”

“Uh-huh...” And sweet little Harry sounded so unsure.

“The _photo,_ mon petit,” Louis explained in a low voice, too hot and close to it to have any shame. “Your fucking mouth. I can't – fuck, Harry, I can't talk right now.”

Harry's voice was meek, but he said, “I think you can.”

“Please, Harry,” Louis begged weakly. “Hang up, just let me-”

“I'm letting you,” Harry said, still quiet.

That was enough permission for Louis; he moved his hand tight on his cock again, not able to bite back his moan at the first stroke.

“Said you were thinking about me since you left,” Harry said softly. “Oui,” Louis gasped.“Are you thinking of me now?”

“ _Oui._ ” Louis grunted, then grunted again, deeper – Harry's voice was so soothing and Louis felt his inhibitions wash away, didn't give a fuck if whoever slept next door was woken up by him gasping a teenage boy's name.

“Is it good? Thinking about... _that?_ ” Harry asked carefully, and, fuck – he was picking his words carefully, he was on set, there had to be people around him.

“Not as good as when I'm with you,” Louis said, his voice breathy and low. “Wish you were here.”

“You want me there?” And Louis could _hear_ Harry's smile. “You want me there in Pa – there?” If Harry couldn't say where Louis was, people were definitely within earshot of Harry's voice, and wasn't that just _sinful_.

“Yes, I want you here in Paris, would be so much better, _mon garçon avec moi,_ ” Louis rambled, chest heaving, hand flying. “Wouldn't fucking take you anywhere, I would just keep you in this bed, kneel over you while I'm touching myself like this.”

“Not even let me out to see the Eiffel Tower?” Harry giggled, teasing.

“ _Non_ , you'd have to stay inside with me. You can see it from the balcony anyway, I could press you up against the glass so you could look at the Eiffel, could get a real good look at it while I kiss your neck and grab your ass and-”

“Thighs?” Harry whispered. “I like that one.”

“ _Fuck,_ Harry,” Louis gasped weakly. “I'm _close_ , baby, wanna fucking come on you. All over your thighs.”

“I'll have to owe you one,” Harry whispered, sounding flustered. “Oh my god, Louis, I can't – I'm getting – _Louis,_ ” he hissed urgently, “Lou-”

“Getting hard for me?” Louis asked darkly. “Mm-hm.” Harry was speaking so very quietly.

“You like when I talk like this?” Louis asked, fucking his hand over his cock so fast that surely Harry could hear each tug. “Is it getting you hard?”

“Yes,” Harry whined. “Wish you were here, Louis, I need you here.”

“I'll be back soon, baby,” Louis tried to sound sweet, but each word was practically a whimper. “Back soon, and – and then -”

“Then you'll be the banana,” Harry finished, and what a ridiculous thing to say -

And how ridiculous, but Louis came right then, thinking of Harry wrapping his lips around a banana while he thought of Louis' cock, thinking of how much Harry loved to suck Louis.

Louis didn't even realise he was being so loud about it, until Harry's insistent “Lou – Lou, _Louis!_ ” crossed over Louis' moaning of “Harry, fuck, Harry, mon garçon, mon bon garcon, oui,” until Harry's voice took over completely.

“Louis, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I'm – are you good?”

Louis stared down at his palm, come splattered over it. He smoothed it over his dick, enjoying the little jolts of aftershock before he got too sensitive. “Yes I'm good, _you're_ so good,” Louis praised. “Why are you sorry?”

“My pants,” Harry whimpered. “I'm sorry to be talking about other stuff so quickly, but -” “It's okay,” Louis reassured him, melting into the bed, letting his body cool off. “What's...?” “Oh man, you've got to help me,” Harry pleaded, sounding a little terrified.“Mon petit, what's going on?”

“My pants for the show!” Harry moaned, then hushed his voice right down. “You know I get so... when we're doing stuff? My _pants_.”

“Wet?” Louis guessed. Wasn't that a thought. Harry, on a set full of people, his cock hard and leaking in his clothes.

“Mm-hm. You can see it, it's gone through my pants!” Harry urged. “Help me, what do I do?”

“I – fuck, um,” Louis shook his head, trying to snap back into reality. “Bathroom? _Non_ , wait, craft services. Is there juice or something? Spill it. On the pants.”

“Okay. Okay, good idea,” Harry said, and he sounded an increment calmer. “I can do that.” “Er. Should I leave you to it then?”“Sorry,” Harry whispered, pained.

“It's fine.” Louis wanted to say _merci_ and _je t'aime_ and _you're perfect -_ but Harry was on set and he was panicking and he was about to pour ice-cold orange juice on his crotch, but - Louis couldn't bite it back. “ _Bon garçon, Je t'aime. Tu es mon bon garçon,_ ” and he bit his lip and sighed and said, “Go now.”

Harry gave a low, sad whine, but he hung up.

Louis sucked come off his fingers lazily, pondering the man he'd been Paris only a month or so ago.

He'd never thought people changed quickly. Fashion had changed Louis so very slowly; he'd gone from an wide-eyed teen to a powerful, jaded thirty-two year old so slowly that he didn't notice it happen.

He noticed this. He couldn't not notice himself whispering sweet nothings down the phone line, across the ocean, to a curly-haired sixteen year old.

He wasn't sure he recognised himself.

The old Louis would be so ashamed to see this, see the minuscule fraction of sickly-sweet that would surely only grow. He'd be filled with disdain, to think he'd rather masturbate in a tacky hotel room than go out and touch real, warm flesh – he'd rather wait and wait and _wait_ for Harry than just go and fucking _fuck someone_.

This Louis now couldn't be the old Louis, because he didn't feel like that.

 


	18. Chapter 18

_“Allez, Lou-is, debout ...”_ ___C’est à peine un murmure à son oreille. Son cerveau endormi objecte, ce n’est pas possible, cela ne peut pas être Harry._ ___“Viens, réveilles-toi ...”_ ___C’est comme s’il pouvait sentir la caresse du souffle de sa voix sur sa peau. “Lou-is ...”_ ___“C’est pas toi Harry, je veux me rendormir ...”_ ___“Tais-toi Louis, léves toi, debout !”_ ___“Je suis en train de réver” murmure-t-il dans son sommeil.”C’est pas vrai, tu n’es pas là, tu ne connais pas ces mots là, Harry ..”_ ___“Laisses-moi faire ... let me kiss the night goodbye ..”_ ___And Louis felt almost kisses, from his eyes to his cheeks. He jolted awake at the sensation. Only to find himself alone in his hotel bed in Paris, Harry nowhere near. His clouded brain had mistaken the tears that had formed in his sleep for Harry’s kisses. Shit._

 

Harry was trying to be patient, he was really trying. He understood time zones and he understood Louis was busy with work and he understood that he himself was busy with work too, but then the team had left Las Vegas and arrived in Phoenix and he _still_ hadn't heard from Louis. It had been almost a whole day.

Louis had left half his things in Las Vegas, and Harry had packed them up for him, hoping that Louis in turn had half of Harry's things, otherwise they were missing. And, yes, maybe Harry had a few half-full bottles of his own lube to pack, but _Louis_ had some things that made Harry blush. Harry didn't really mind, but he probably shouldn't be touching them so he was really doing Louis a favour, the least Louis could do was answer his phone.

Harry huffed, then threw his phone on to the hotel bed and crossed the hallway, banging on room 817, Eleanor's door.

“Harry?” She was clearly surprised to see him.

“Phoenix has a science museum,” Harry said flatly. It was uncomfortable, but there was surely no un-awkward way to ask your secret boyfriend's fake girlfriend to come to the museum with you.

Not that Louis was his boyfriend.“Will you come with me?” was Harry's way of inviting her.

Eleanor jutted her chin out at Harry, questioning him in derision. “Phoenix has _shops_ ,” she suggested. “Cinemas, restaurants, I don't know, there's probably go-carts somewhere, that'd be fun?”

 

“Please,” Harry asked. “I need to find out about...” He lowered his voice, hoping he could trust her. “Evolution.”

Eleanor blinked at him. “It's not a secret, darling.”

Except it was a secret. Harry had gone to a Christian school for his entire education and they had a class called science but they certainly hadn't been taught evolution, because God created the world in six days, and God had created humans, there was no way they'd evolved from monkeys, God had _made_ humans, that's what Harry had been taught.

“I need to see the science museum,” Harry insisted. “To find out about evolution.”

“All right, let me get my shoes,” Eleanor replied. “I didn't realise you were such a nerd. I hated science.”

\-----

Louis' 'wardrobe' position was completely gratuitous. Besides small talk he wasn't asked one question in the dressing room, and there were already two real translators on set. Louis wouldn't have minded hanging around, but he quickly realised what CNTV were filming in Paris was an anti-abortion short. Why they'd thought the message would be more convincing shot at a cafe with the Eiffel Tower in the background, Louis didn't hang around long enough to find out.

He flat-out told the producer that, “You don't need me here, so I'm going to head off.” Louis had to bite his tongue from telling the producer what he was filming was disgusting, stuff his hands into his pockets to stop himself from calling Jeremy and saying he quit.

Louis just had to keep the peace, and he'd be back with Harry in a few days. For now he'd visit his parents at their property in the country. His mother would cry tears of joy upon his arrival and insist on cooking for him, his father would throw dirty overalls at him and put him to work with their staff, but it would be worth it for some peace and quiet.

The hotel stored half his things for him, and Louis brought the rest in one suitcase to the train station. He walked past a sex shop on the way, realising he'd left all his toys in Las Vegas, which meant poor Harry would have had probably seen them when he packed up their stuff to move on to the next city.

It meant _Harry had them_ , though.

Louis ducked into the shop before he second-guessed himself – he had just enough time before the train left. He lingered over vibrators and butt plugs, and perhaps lingered over the handsome shop assistant too – just looking was fine. He decided on a dildo – probably didn't need anything loudly buzzing and pulsing under the roof of his parent's house. He couldn't help but hold the displays in his hand, squinting as he assessed which ones were Harry-size. It had to be a bit depraved, because god knows Harry wasn't going to be fucking Louis, but a man could fantasize, right?

He settled on a bright yellow one, gaudy and tacky, but it reminded him too much of the banana in Harry's mouth.

“It's a good one,” the shop assistant agreed, tapping the box. “Nice curve to it.”

Louis had almost paid when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, a small clear blue set of anal beads.

The shop assistant gave him a knowing smirk, and said, “Twenty percent off beads this week.” So Louis had to, really.

And if he were to imagine shiny blue beads up Harry's ass, it would be harmless. He was just imagining.

The train trip was long and when Louis finally got to his destination, he was tired and hungry and in desperate need of caffeine. He went out to the street to get some food before finding a car to rent to drive to his parent's place.

Louis turned a corner and next thing he knew, he'd smacked right into someone and toppled to the ground. His suitcase fell out of his hand, hitting him on the hip as he fell down beside it. Louis registered his knee stinging, the warm feeling of blood beginning to trickle out of a fresh cut. He'd heard the paper bag rip and the quiet thuds of a somewhat large dildo and a case of anal beads hit the paving.

" _Excuse-moi!_ " a voice spoke from above. A figure squatted down to where Louis was on the ground.

Louis looked up, and swallowed nervously. The man was in a crisp black shirt with a hard white collar, he was a _priest_ , and Louis was sitting in a pile of blood and sex toys.

Fuck the sex toys. Fuck his suitcase, even. He had to get away.

Louis stood up; “ _Putain!_ ” (wonderful, now he'd sworn in front of the priest too.) Searing pain shot through his ankle and he hit the pavement again.

Louis had felt vulnerable exactly once in his life before and that was with Harry where he was very safe. This was _not safe_ , it was a fucking priest and Louis had sent anal beads and a bright yellow silicone dildo flying and he was _fucked,_ priests definitely didn't like gay men, let alone gay men bumping into them and hurling brightly-colored sex toys through the air. Louis hoped the man wasn't easily provoked, and would just leave him alone.

"Je suis desolé!" Louis begged, trying to shrink back into the ground.

"Monsieur," the man said in sympathy. He continued in French, "I didn't see you coming around the corner, are you hurt?"

Louis didn't want to admit that he couldn't run.

The man reached for the dildo, and the anal beads (anal beads, why did Louis have to buy _anal beads_ , why today?) and tucked them back into the ripped paper bag best he could.

"Are you really hurt?" the man continued, passing them back to Louis. "You look agonised." "Are you fucking with me?" Louis whispered back in French. “Please, just leave me be.”

The man _laughed_ , sitting himself down besides Louis as if the pavement was comfortable. "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you. Although, you have already taken care of that one for me."

Louis didn't understand. "Is that a costume?"

"No," the man said easily, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it on the graze where Louis' pants had ripped through. "It's clean," he reassured Louis. "We'll stop the bleeding first, _oui?_ I'm Father Marc, this is what I wear to work."

"Didn't you see...?" Louis waved the ripped bag of incriminating items.

"Oui," Marc said, and he did look a bit embarrassed. But that was it.

"I'm gay," Louis said flatly.

"A name would have sufficed,” Marc said calmly. “But if it matters, I'm straight.”

“And a priest.” Louis winced under the pressure on his knee, but the man was being as gentle as he could be. “Louis,” he introduced himself awkwardly. “Je m'appelle Louis.”

“This is a small town, I haven't seen you around here.”“My parents live nearby, I'm on my way to visit them,” Louis explained.“I normally just bring my mother flowers." Marc smiled at the paper bag in Louis' hand.Louis couldn't believe a priest was joking about sex toys. Had he hit his head when he fell, too?

“It's quite a big cut you've got here, and I think you might have hurt your ankle,” the priest went on in sympathetic French. “I know our town's doctor, we won't have to wait around. Perks of being a priest, I suppose.”

“You'll have to forgive me,” Louis said. “But your kindness has surprised me. I haven't come across many priests in my time.”

The man gave a dry smile. “I don't suppose I'm much different from you. Except I wear this.” He tapped his stiff white collar. “And your clothes look much nicer than mine. Shame about the knee of your pants. Do you think you could walk to my car, if I put an arm around you? It's not too far off.”

Louis didn't understand. “Why are you helping me?”

“Have you seen this?” The man peeked under the bloodied handkerchief pressed on Louis' knee. “Well, perhaps you shouldn't look, you might get faint. It's quite a split.”

“But I'm gay,” Louis said, mentally kicking himself for reminding the man. “And I swore.”

The man shrugged. “Unless your gay-ness has magical healing powers, I think you'll still need stitches. _Lève-toi, avec moi,_ there you go." He helped Louis stand up, picking up Louis' suitcase for him.

Louis suddenly understood why Harry so frequently blurted out somewhat-insulting questions. The world just didn't make sense sometimes.

“You don't hate gay people?” he confirmed.

“ _Non,_ ” the priest reassured him in great amusement. “I try not to hate anyone, it's a pretty big part of my religion. A good father wouldn't pick and choose his flock.”

“That's _part_ of your religion? Not against it?”“ _You shall love your neighbour as yourself,_ ” the priest quoted. “It's not my place to judge anyone, least of all for the way they love.”

“ _Incroyable_ ,” Louis quietly, following the priest, relieved to have the man to lean on as his ankle was very sore. “I'm sorry, no judgement on you, I assure you. I've just been in Texas recently. They weren't so inclusive.”

“Bible belt Americans? Well, pay them no heed, they also have cheese in a-” “Can!” Louis finished for him, laughing. “I haven't tried it yet.”“Don't,” the priest warned him, helping him into the car. “It's not cheese. It's awful.”

\-----

Harry finally heard from Louis, _finally._ A text message came through saying, _Harry Styles!!!! You are the coolest person I know!!!_ with a website link in it.

Harry wondered what he'd done. He clicked through, reading.

_Victoria Beckham whipped photographers into a frenzy when it appeared she'd taken a few style tips from CNTV's newest star Harry Styles. The former popstar was spied making her way through JFK airport in her Burberry heart-print shirt. This silk shirt has been on A-lister must have lists since to it's debut on Styles, thanks to its fitted shape and epaulettes._

“That is so cool,” Harry said to himself – whatever epaulettes were. He was admittedly relieved to see Victoria Beckham had gotten the shirt in burgundy; no one could call Harry gay for wearing the _exact_ same shirt as a girl, right? There was a photo in the article of Harry in his black version of it, a smile on his face as he walked the Fendi show's red carpet. He'd hazard a guess that if the camera had turned to follow his smile, his eyes would have been on Louis.

Harry called Louis' phone, and Louis answered immediately. “'Arry! 'ow are you?” His accent already sounded thicker, like he'd been gone for a year, not a few days. It was a bit unsettling.

“Where've you been?” Harry demanded.

“I'm sorry _mon petit._ ” Louis did sound sorry. “I was on the train, I'm visiting my parents see, but there's no phone reception in between stations. Then I hurt my ankle and my knee, I was busy with that so I didn't check my phone.”

“You hurt yourself?” Harry felt bad for getting mad at Louis. Of course he would have a good reason to not be in contact.

“I'm fine,” Louis reassured him. “A priest helped me. Can you believe it, 'Arry! A priest! With the neck collar and everything! He took me to the doctors, and I got three stitches in my knee and a compression bandage on my ankle and I'm not allowed to walk much for a week. He took me to dinner, he said grace in French, and then drove me to my parent's house. He was so nice!”

Louis sounded _delighted_. “You're not too badly hurt?”

“Oh, it's not so pleasant,” Louis admitted. “But my parents have a farm and my father cannot make me milk the cows with a hurt ankle, can he?” Louis laughed.

His English wasn't quite as smooth as it had gotten to be after a few weeks in America, and it made him feel too far away. Plus, _Louis milking cows?_ Milking cows and not protesting about getting his expensive clothes dirty? Impossible to imagine. Harry felt like Louis was in another universe.

“I'm hoping it will heal fast,” Louis went on. “Otherwise I'll have to stay here a few days longer. I told Jeremy I'd sprained my ankle, which was foolish, because now it's a 'occupational safety issue' and I can't travel until the doctor says I can walk on it.”

“You're not coming back?” Harry asked sadly.“Of course I'm coming back _mon garçon_ , I've got presents for you,” Louis said.

He had presents for Harry. He was visiting family and had hurt himself and he'd _still_ been thinking of Harry.

“I got something for you too, today,” Harry told him. “I hope you heal up fast.” “Father Marc said he'd pray for me.” Louis chuckled. “To help me heal faster.”

“I can pray for you,” Harry said, feeling jealous – then feeing guilty for feeling jealous. He changed the subject. “Hey, Victoria Beckham didn't really get the shirt because I had it, did she?”

“I think so!” Louis said gleefully. His voice got muffled, apparently talking to someone he was with, then he said, “I've got to go. My mother wants me to eat. Again. I'll try to call later? Bonne soirée.”

“It's not the 'soirée' here,” Harry reminded Louis.

“Bonne _journée_ , I mean. I might be able to call you before I go to sleep, _oui?_ I'm really sorry about not checking my phone enough. I'll do better. Have a good day, _mon petit-ami._ I miss you.”

“One question?” Harry asked quickly. “ _Oui?_ ” Louis said.“Petit means little, yes?”

“You know it does,” Louis said. Harry could hear a woman's voice in the background, speaking French. “Ah, I've really got to go, she's going into proper mothering-mode, looks like my sisters just got here too, and the nieces.” And then he called out, “ _Oui, s'il te plait, t'es_ -”

“But the other word?” Harry interrupted.

“ _Je suis désolé, 'Arry,_ ” Louis sounded remorseful. “I've really got to go. I miss you. I promise I'll call soon, okay?”

“Of course, sorry. Bye-bye.”“You miss me too?” Louis prompted him.

“ _Oui._ ” Harry felt self-conscious trying to pronounce the French right, but Louis gave a happy hum before he hung up the phone.

Harry didn't put down his phone. He opened up Google instead, and typed in “petit army”, then tried “petit army french”. Both searches came back with a French wikipedia page and pictures of army vehicles, which Harry considered for about half a second before he dismissed the idea entirely. He tried “petit army nickname”, but the results were even less sensical. It had to mean something, though, or Louis would have just _said_ what it was.

\-----

Louis kept his phone in his lap at dinner. He was thirty-two, far too old to be secretly texting under a table - not to mention his parents were lovely, so were his brother and sisters and nieces, all crowded around a creaking wooden table overladen with food. His mother loved to fuss and feed, but with her nurturing spread out between so many children, she wasn't overbearing. Louis felt rude for not giving his family his full attention, but Harry was awake and free and they had time to talk.

 _My mother's made coq au vin :)_ Louis sent. _I can make that, you know,_ Harry sent back. _I'm a good cook._

The one morning Harry was going to cook for Louis, back in his parent's house, he'd cried instead. They'd just had toast.

 _You can cook French food? I have to see this._ Louis dared him. _I'd cook for you,_ Harry replied. Then: _Hey Louis. Do you like anyone??_

Louis blinked at his phone screen. _Where'd that come from?_ Harry didn't reply.

Louis chewed on his chicken, getting so lost in thought that his sister had to actually snap her fingers in front of his face, trying to offer him more wine. Louis accepted, and sent, _How do you mean?_

_You know how._

Then Harry sent through four of those obnoxious red question marks.

“Ernest,” Louis said to his younger brother, passing his phone over. “Get me those emoji things.” A few minutes later, Louis could send back the shrugging girl. _Do YOU like someone?_ __ _I'm not telling if you're not telling._ __ _Fine._ Louis sent with the emoji poking out its tongue. They were fun.

Louis' mother put more bread on his plate. When she looked away, Louis tossed it to the old dog in the corner.

“Saw that,” his youngest sister giggled in French.

 _Hey, I forgot to tell you, I bought something,_ Louis typed, biting his lip in amusement – he couldn't help it, it was so fun to shock Harry sometimes. And he'd maybe had a couple glasses of wine. _Sex toys. And I dropped them in front of the priest!_

 _Louis!!!_ Harry sent back. _I can't believe you. That's bad. You left some here you know you shouldn't have them it's bad._

 _I don't care,_ Louis said. _Give me an hour or two and I'll be having the time of my life with them ;).  !!!!!!!!!!_ Was all Harry typed back.

Then a few minutes later, _Linda's sent me a link to the episode, so I can watch it before it airs tonight. Talk soon?_

 _Hope its good,_ Louis replied. _Wish I could watch with you_. _Skype me later. You can watch something else,_ Harry sent back.

Louis' siblings left after dinner, all but Ernest and his twin, Louis' sister Doris, who were still young enough to live with their parents. They all went to sleep early, accustomed to farm life. Louis was left alone and wide awake, both an insomniac and jetlagged, in the bedroom he'd grown up in.

He rifled through the bottom of his chest of drawers, old school shirts and shit, and found what he was looking for; a few Stone Roses t-shirts, half of which he'd cut into tank tops, the ones he'd firmly denied ever wearing to Zayn. He'd lived in them though, at work on his parent's property taming grape vines, driving the car into town to buy _Vogue_ , on the first few dates he ever went on. He might have ruined Harry's Prada sweater and he'd buy him more high-end things, he could probably secure the boy a lot of haute couture when they were next in New York, but this was different to that. These t-shirts were stained and faded and had holes in them, had been washed so many times they were baby-soft and thin.

And that – Harry wearing Louis' old ratty t-shirts – that was very _boyfriend-y_ , and maybe he should just tell Harry what _petit-ami_ means.

Which was crazy. They'd known each other mere weeks. Not to mention Harry's age.

Louis checked his email on his parent's old computer in the lounge. Linda had sent a link to the second episode of Modern Missionary to Louis too. _So you can stay up to date. Don't forward the link to anyone._

Louis didn't really have anything else to do, and he wouldn't mind a visual of Harry to mentally carry back to his bedroom, so he opened the video.

\-----

Harry propped it Louis' iPad against the pillows of the bed. He felt his stomach swirling as the Modern Missionary opening credits started rolling on the screen, unsure if what he was feeling was excitement, or something more like trepidation.

It started with footage of Harry at the Fendi event, talking to the camera. Harry didn't pay full attention to what he was saying on-screen: some token words about being on tour and how beautiful Las Vegas was (he was quite convincing, for someone who'd barely left his suite).

Harry, in his Phoenix hotel room, was too focussed on bracing himself for how badly it would hurt to see Louis, how it would make him miss Louis even more...

But Louis was nowhere to be seen in the show. It was like he wasn't even at the event. Harry did feel awful when he spied the tall black model, the one who'd witnessed Louis' punch and told Harry not to tell anyone about it.

It then went back to Seattle, the live show there. Harry cringed, watching himself fumble over the girls-kissing-girls answer. They'd edited it pretty well, it didn't look too bad, but Harry

remembered vividly.There rest of it was all good advice though, about balancing school and God and recreation.

Harry wasn't so sure how good his balance had been lately. He'd been so busy with Louis that he'd forgotten to say grace before he ate, forgotten to pray before bed. He didn't really feel worse off for it, but that was an awful thing to think, wasn't it?

There was more footage from the Fendi event as they segued into the Las Vegas leg of the tour, the live show. They'd done a fun section with the audience there, picking a book of the bible and having to recite verses from it without repeating any numbers.

The episode closed with Harry talking to the dancers. They were young girls, eighteen or nineteen, and it really looked like Harry had convinced them to quit their jobs at the adult clubs and live life for God. Which was good, they shouldn't have to dance in that way if they didn't want to, but Harry was sure now the girls were just acting it.

What if a dancer like that, an actual _stripper_ , did see Modern Missionary though? It might help them decide they didn't have to do it if they didn't want to. It would be worth it then, wouldn't it? It would be okay to have lied?

If Harry stressed about how Jeremy had edited that segment, he didn't have to stress about the things he'd said about girls kissing girls and how it was wrong. He kind of really didn't like that those words had come out of his mouth, had been broadcasted internationally.

Harry checked the time, wondering if Louis had really meant what he'd said about ' _give me an hour or two.'_ It was definitely worth checking, wasn't it?

 _Have you got skype?_ Harry sent to Louis' phone. _Yeah, I'll nick my kid brother's laptop. Hold on._

Not ten minutes later Harry could see Louis' face, lit up by the laptop screen, sitting crossed- legged on a bed in a dark room. Harry couldn't help but smile wide at the sight on the screen, feeling like a total goof.

“Hi,” Harry said, feeling a bit shy.

“Hold on,” Louis muttered, holding up a finger to signal _wait,_ as he ducked off screen for a minute. He came back, plugging in headphones. “Can't be too loud,” he explained. “Don't want to wake my parents.”

Harry really didn't mean to be so naughty, but he couldn't help but think of his phone interview, how he'd had to stay quiet, and now Louis wanted to stay quiet, and -

"Will you show me what you bought?” Harry blurted out.

Louis held up the finger again, his sassy attitude boring through the webcam as he scrolled through his phone with the other hand. “'Ere we go, 'Arry, let me quote: _That's bad...you shouldn't have them... it's bad._ ”

“Lou-ie,” Harry huffed, hoping his own webcam wouldn't pick up his blushing. “I don't know,

maybe it's not bad. If I could see it, I could make up my own mind? Isn't that what you keep telling me, just make up my own mind about things?”

“ _Oui,_ ” Louis said slowly, a daring smirk on his face.

“I want to see,” Harry insisted.

“Okay,” Louis shrugged in resignation. “I'll show you.”

Louis held up two clear plastic boxes. One had a long bright yellow – well, a _thing_ in it. A willy. The other looked like a chunky piece of jewellery. The writing on the boxes was in French.

“What's the other one for?” Harry asked.

“Same hole,” Louis said cheerily. “Different sensation.”

“Wow,” Harry said, blinking. “They're the same blue as your eyes.”

Louis was outrageous; he took them out of the box and held them up _right next to his eyes_. Harry couldn't believe it.

They did match.“I like the color,” Harry said.There was a pause.Louis tossed the beaded thing aside. “Did you want to talk about something else now?”

Harry shook his head. “Nah.” He fiddled with his hands and shuffled where he sat and then realised Louis could see everything, and when Harry bit his lip in embarrassment, Louis licked his own lips and Harry thought he could hear the wobble-crack of plastic packaging off screen.

“I think the toys are fine,” Harry said quickly. “It's not bad of you. I wanna see the yellow one.”

Harry now knew he could have one or two fingers inside him, but he really sort of wondered what it was like to have something bigger. It hadn't worked last time, trying _trois_ of Louis' fingers, but... if Harry could see how it was possible, to take something bigger, maybe he could be better for Louis next time.

Louis silently held the thing up, now out of the packaging.

“You said you were going to have the time of your life with it,” Harry said, not daring to look right up into the webcam.

Louis just sort of blinked, wide-eyed. “What are you saying, 'Arry?”

Harry didn't know how to say what he was saying. “You look good, Louis,” he tried.

“So do you.”

“I miss you,” Harry added. “So... what's it like, using... that thing?”

“A dildo?” Louis said brazenly, brows raised, but he didn't exactly seem calm. “I don't do it often,” he admitted. “It's good, I don't know.”

“Show me?” Harry asked.

“Show you?” Louis repeated. “Now?” Harry nodded.“Are you sure?”“Yes.” Harry nodded harder.

Louis looked around himself at the bed. “Not sure how I can do this. Can't kneel on my hurt knee. Hey, want to see my stitches?”

“Ew!” Harry protested. “No, gross.”

Louis had already whipped off his pants and was pushing his knee into view of the camera. “Three stitches, look!”

“Nice legs,” Harry said to himself, but - “ _Merci._ ” Louis had heard him.

Louis did have nice legs and his underwear was so nice and snug around his crotch, and poor Louis, with his hurt knee. “Wish I could kiss it better,” Harry said.

Louis tapped his ankle, pointing at the compression bandage on it. “Here too?”

“There too,” Harry agreed. “Where else?”

Louis sat back, cross-legged again, and moved his hand to his crotch, he pointed then let his hand drop, gently pushing and rubbing at himself through his underwear. The underwear was wrapped over a nice bulge, and Louis' hands were sort of small and delicate, and the way they moved was slow and tantalising. It was very, very sexy.

“There too,” Harry agreed. He bit his lip, then asked, “Can you – I can't just -” “You can touch yourself too,” Louis said, voice hushed.

Harry wriggled out of his pants, shucked his t-shirt off too, and sat cross-legged in his underpants, just like Louis was.

Louis had such a nice taut, tanned body, the lines of his abs leading down to his tiny soft little belly. Harry looked at the small square on his screen displaying his own camera, he looked soft and pale in comparison.

“You're so gorgeous,” Louis groaned, rubbing at himself harder. “I want you to touch yourself. I want to see you touching yourself.”

Harry blushed, looking away from the camera as he pulled his dick out of his underpants, already quite hard.

“That's it,” Louis whispered. “God, I miss that cock. Picked this thing from the shop because it was the same size as you.”

“Oh my goodness,” Harry said. Wow. “Really?”

Louis nodded, procuring a bottle of lubricant from thin air. He didn't apply it to the dildo just yet, though, instead put the tip of the bright yellow thing right between his lips, staring intently at his screen. Harry slid his hand down to the end of his dick, squeezing his head while Louis sucked on the dildo, his cheeks going concave.

“Frick,” Harry whimpered. “I miss you, Louis. I feel... naughty.”

Louis took his mouth off the dildo, smiling at Harry. “You're not naughty. You're such a good boy, 'Arry.”

Harry's heart was beating hard, but he just wanted to be good for Louis and wanted Louis to be good for him and maybe that meant being a little bad.

“What if I wanna be naughty?” Harry asked, voice a bit shaky as he pulled at his cock. “What if I wanna watch you being naughty?”

“ _Merde,_ ” Louis hummed. “If you want to watch me being naughty, then... _merde_... I can take my underwear off, show you what I bought this for.”

Harry nodded. “I won't tell anyone, you know.”Louis nodded too, and he looked a bit sad, a bit relieved, all at once.

Louis' ass looked so perfect, round and pert, as he turned around to pull his underwear off. It wasn't necessary to turn around, so he had to be doing it for Harry's benefit.

It was working.

Louis turned back to face the camera and knelt up on his good knee, his hurt leg lying straight out to the side.

“Just do it,” Harry urged, because he still didn't last really long, and he didn't want to come watching Louis doing nothing.

Louis uncapped the bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount onto the dildo.“You don't have to... you know, warm up?” Harry asked.Louis shook his head. “I should, maybe, but. Want to feel you st – feel it stretch me.” _Want to feel you._

The tip of Harry's cock was shining wet as he stroked himself. Louis' cock was bare and hard and curved up to his stomach and Louis wasn't touching it, just positioning himself and holding the dildo underneath him with an arm behind his back, the other resting on his thigh to stay steady.

Louis was so good. Harry could be good too. He took his hand off himself, squeezing his own thighs instead, waiting. “Go on,” Harry said.

Louis looked at the screen, apparently checking the view of himself as he moved his hips down. The yellow dildo just slid right in very slowly. Harry flicked his eyes up – Louis' face had paused in a silent gasp, lips open almost like he was surprised. Looking back down to Louis' hips, his ass - there was no resistance, it just looked like it was disappearing until Louis was halfway down it. Louis moaned, clamping his lips together and shutting his eyes and breathing out through his nose. “ _'Arry,_ ” he urged. “ _Oui, J'aime ça._ ”

Harry swallowed, not wanting to even blink, lest he missed any of this. Louis rose back up a bit, revealing more of the yellow dildo again. “'Arry, touch yourself,” he said.

“I can't, I'll come straight away if I do,” Harry urged.“Your nipples, then,” Louis suggested breathlessly. “Play with them for me.”

Harry raised hesitant hands to his chest, stroking over both his nipples, feeling them get hard like beads under his fingertips. He rocked his hands over them, pushing.

“Oh, God,” Louis moaned. “You look so good. You're so beautiful. I miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Harry said, not caring how sappy it sounded. “I miss your hands on me like this.”

“Pinch them,” Louis said. “Get them all pink and sore and used for me. Fuck I wish I was there, to lick them, bite them.”

Harry obeyed, pinching himself, feeling precome bead out of his cock. “I like that. A lot,” he whimpered.

Louis rocked his hips and then sunk down further until his bottom was almost touching the mattress.

“Wow,” Harry breathed. “You're amazing.” Because Louis was, he'd taken the whole big thing practically straight away and if he could do that, surely Harry could learn to do it too.

One day.

“ _You're_ amazing,” Louis said, gliding himself up and down ever so slowly. Harry wished the webcam was better quality, wished he could see if the tip of Louis' cock was dribbling wet too. “Look at you, nice big hands for your nice big cock, being so patient, not touching yourself there yet. You're so perfect.”

Harry blushed, hot from twisting his nipples and hot from the things Louis was saying and hot from the sight of him, the way his cock was swinging up and down a bit in time with his steady rise and fall.

“You look so good,” Louis whined.Harry smiled. “Shh, don't wake any one up.”

That just made Louis whine louder, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow as he rode the thing a bit faster. “Fuck, 'Arry, fuck.”

His swearing didn't even bother Harry.

Louis' stomach was so nice and flat and his lovely thighs were spread wide and his balls looked so soft and sleek – Harry's hair was truly growing back now, but Louis must have shaved himself in Paris. He looked _so good_. Harry couldn't really see Louis' hole properly, his balls were in the way. It didn't really matter, the skin on his balls looked so soft, a sweet smooth little package of flesh, and right above it Louis' dick was so hard and rigid, the perfect combination of sensations. Harry just wanted to reach through the screen and touch Louis, feel Louis under his hand, feel smooth skin glide over hardness.

Harry paused, suddenly seeing himself in the situation. He was sat in a hotel room with a webcam on him as he touched himself and he was looking at a man, a man's dick and his balls and the man had a thing up his bum.

Louis paused too. “Are you okay?”“I am okay,” Harry said, amazed. “It's all okay, it's all very, very okay.”

“It's okay,” Louis echoed, beginning to really bounce up and down. “I miss you, I miss you a lot, but it's okay.”

Harry tugged at his nipples, pulling them out a bit, biting his lips.

“I can't believe how good you look!” Louis said. “Your face when you do that, you're so fucking pretty. I want to kiss you.”

“I'm going to kiss you so much when you get back to America,” Harry promised, starting to writhe where he sat, feeling his bum cheeks tense up as he thrust himself up into air, waiting ever so patiently. “But for tonight, I want you to come first for once,” he blurted out. “You first, then me.”

“Okay.” Louis smiled. Harry hoped he'd be quick.

“When – when you had your tongue in me,” Harry stammered out. “And I came like that – can you do that?”

Louis looked through the screen, appearing almost intimidated. “ _Oui_ , yeah, I can try,” he said slowly, muscles rippling in his thighs as he bounced. “Got to get the angle right.” Louis twisted his hips, leaning back a bit. “Oh, shit.” He nodded. “That feels really good, 'Arry. I can't even explain it, you feel amazing.”

_You feel amazing._

“You wet, baby?” Louis asked, voice weak, as he fucked himself up and down, still leaning back.

Harry realised the webcam wasn't quite clear enough on Louis' end either. He could tell Louis, or he could -

Harry gently stroked his fingertips over the head of his cock, looked right into the camera as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking. Fingers still in his mouth, he nodded.

“Oh my God,” Louis moaned low. “You're such a good boy Harry, _mon bon garçon_ , I can't believe you.”

“You reckon I can hit you again, when you get back?” Harry asked quietly, pulling his fingers out far enough only to rest on his bottom lip. “Hit you hard on the ass for leaving me here? Make sure when you get back, I'm the first thing you feel?”

Louis eyes widened as he began to nod frantically. _“Oui._ ” Then, “ _'_ Arry, I'm close, do you want to touch yourself properly now?”

Harry did, he really really did, wrapping his damp fingers around his hardness.

“How do you feel?” Louis gasped. He put a hand to his forehead, pushing his hair off his face. It stuck up to the side, sweaty and limp, and it didn't look like a good hairstyle, it just looked messy. Louis was always so put-together and polished, but now he looked unkempt and it was because of Harry and everything was just so, so good.

“Um,” Harry said, voice coming out high and quiet. “I'm hard, Louis, really hard.” Harry tugged at himself, rubbing at the head of his cock, sticky with precome.

“What's made you so hard, hmm?” Louis prompted, voice as unsteady as Harry's.

“Looking at you,” Harry whispered. He cleared his throat, and spoke louder. “You look really good and I miss you and I want to see you come.”

Louis nodded, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he began to thump his hips up and down hard, his free hand digging right into his thigh.

“Tell me who it's for,” Harry said weakly.

Harry watched in awe, squirming from how much he was turned on, as he watched Louis come. Louis jerked up and down over the dildo, gasping, “'Arry. _'Arry!_ All for you, all for you _mon petit-ami._ ”

Harry fixed his gaze on Louis' cock. It didn't squirt up high but just spilled out, thick and white in juxtaposition against Louis' tanned skin, gliding down his tip and dripping down the length of his shaft, there was so much of it. Louis' hand flew up to grip at the base of his cock, stroking himself slow and tight as he came. His come trailed down over his fingers as he moved, spreading a beautiful mess over himself.

“Fuck,” Louis whimpered, hand only slowing down a bit. “You can come too now _mon garçon_ , come for me.”

Harry sped his hand up and it didn't take two seconds; his orgasm came in stark contrast to Louis, who'd come slow and thick. Harry's was thin and fast, shooting right up like an obscene fountain, hitting his chin. It fell down on his chest like rain, pearly drops landing on his nipples. Harry gave a few small shouts, Louis' name, gasping through it, squeezing his hand as hard as he could, thighs trembling.

He saw Louis rise up slowly off the dildo, shoving it aside and plopping down onto his bottom, moaning softly, his tan skin practically melting into the bedspread as he sat catching his breath.

When Louis looked up, Harry ran a thumb over his jaw and chin, wiping off the come.

Louis nodded, silently encouraging him, so Harry slipped his thumb between his lips, sucking off his come and swallowing it.

“Such a pretty mouth,” Louis whispered. “ _Tes lèvres rose._ You're such a good boy, came all over your chest for me.”

“You came too,” Harry said shyly, twisting the bedspread in his hand and suddenly feeling very, very naked.

Louis just sort of nodded and smirked. “Can't believe I did that for you. Under my mother's roof!” Harry giggled. “It'll be our secret.”

Louis nodded. “Give me a second to clean up, is that okay? You can too. Then you can say goodnight to me, and get on with your day.”

\-----

“What's your family like?” Harry asked through the laptop screen, pulling the hotel bed's duvet over himself. He'd come back in view wearing one of Louis' sweaters and Louis had just smiled and smiled and smiled.

“They're the best.” Louis smiled. “My parents are lovely. My mother's still calling me Boobear though, I think she refuses to believe I'm thirty-two.”

“Boobear!” Harry squealed.Louis groaned. “I shouldn't have told you that, should I?”“It was a mistake, Boobear. It was a big, big mistake.” Harry nodded sagely. “ _Boobear!_ ”

“Shut it.” Louis smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I've got six sisters, one brother – he didn't come along until I was twenty-two though, so there was just a lot of girls around when I was growing up.”

“Is that why you're gay?” Harry asked.“ _Tu te moques de moi?_ ” Louis sighed. “Harry. Are you seriously asking that?” “Sorry,” Harry said. “I just thought... I don't know.”

“Listen,” Louis said. “There's a lot of gay people out there with all brothers, or no siblings at all, right? I mean, straight people aren't straight just because they had only brothers or only sisters, right?”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry realised. “When you flip it.” Louis gave him a pointed look. To use the American term, _duh._

“How come it's like that?” Harry asked. “I mean, when you flip it, it sounds absurd, that people would be straight because of who their siblings were. Why do people talk about gay people like they're so different?”

“ _Je ne sais pas._ ” Louis shrugged sadly. “I suppose some people think if you're different in one way, you must be different in every last way.”

“It's not bad to be a bit different,” Harry said.

“I'm gay because I'm gay,” Louis said. “Not because I grew up with sisters. I mean, I also grew up...” he cut himself off, smiling bashfully up into the corner of his room.

“What?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

“Okay, look. I'm not ashamed of it or anything, but I don't tell a lot of people. This is a farm, Harry,” Louis admitted with a wink. “I was a farm boy. As tough and dirty as the rest of them.”

“A farm?” and Harry did laugh. “You grew up on a farm? _You_ , with the hair and the shoes and the fancy shampoo?”

“Oui. My parents grow grapes for wine and have dairy cows for cheese. We've got a staff of about thirty, forty people. But _mon père_ had me working on the farm as soon as I could walk, really.”

Harry was giggling. “You meant it then, about milking cows?”

“Oui!” Louis insisted. “We make very good cheese here. It won't last on the plane, but I can bring you back some of our wine.”

“More presents?” Harry beamed, his impossible dimple clear on the laptop screen. “Yes, more presents. You deserve everything. I'll bring you back a fucking cow.” “Will it moo in French?” Harry said, absurd smile only widening.“Oui!” Louis nodded happily. “Our cows say _meuh._ ”

Suddenly Harry's eyes widened and he turned his head away, calling out, “Who is it?” - Someone must have knocked on his door.

Louis could just make out her voice: “It's Linda. I've got a few things to go over with you.” Harry's frantic eyes hit back to the screen, waving anxious hands.

Louis just had to shrug silently and give a small wave goodbye. Then he turned his hand sideways and waved Harry to go on.

 _Sorry,_ Harry mouthed. He gave a sad pout.Louis had already clicked the hang-up button, when the last thing he saw was Harry pressing a hand to his mouth and blowing Louis a kiss.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Harry was rifling through his suitcase for clean pyjamas when his hand got tangled in pale blue wool. Confused, he pulled, more coming off in his hand until he traced it to the Prada sweater.

“Oh no,” he whispered to himself.

It would be very early morning in France. Harry prayed that Louis was still fast asleep, hurt ankle propped up on a pillow, and wouldn't answer his phone.

“'Arry! Good morning!” Louis sounded so lovely and it made Harry feel even worse. “Louis,” Harry said. “I've done something really bad.”“What's happened?” Louis replied quickly.

 “The sweater. The blue one, from Prada. I wasn't paying attention when I packed, you left half your stuff here, I just threw everything in, I'm sorry.”

“Oh, _mon petit!_ It's fine-”“No, listen. I'm so sorry, but it's ruined. There's a giant hole in it and blue wool tangled through all my stuff. I'm so, so sorry. I'll pay you back for it.” “'Arry! 'Arry,” Louis interjected. “I did it.” “Wait, what?”Louis, damaging clothes? No.

“It caught on my suitcase zipper when I was packing for France. _I'm_ sorry.”“You did it?” Harry was glad it wasn't his fault, at least... but the Prada sweater was ruined. Their special thing was ruined.“I'm sorry,” Louis repeated. “I've already gotten you something else, though, to replace it.”

“At a farm?” Harry was sceptical, there couldn't be many nice clothes shops near a farm. The Prada sweater was so soft and cosy. He sort of thought he'd be wearing it for years.

“I promise it's good,” Louis said. “Anyone can buy Prada. There's only one of what I've got for you.”

Wow. Okay.

All Harry had gotten Louis was one of those tacky _I Went To The Phoenix Science Center and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt_ 's. Because nothing would be funnier than making Louis wear ugly clothes, he'd thought – but if Louis had gotten Harry something one-of-a-kind, something really special, Harry had to step his game up.

He was screwed, really. Ignoring whatever Louis had got for Harry in France, Louis had already given him antique jewellery.

Harry had bought him a stupid ugly t-shirt.

_Idiot._

Louis must have sensed Harry's pause. He took mercy, kindly changed the subject. “How's Phoenix been?”

“Boring.” Harry sighed. “Eleanor wanted to go go-karting today but there was a photographer outside the hotel and Jeremy wouldn't let us leave.”

“That sucks. That's nice she invited you, though.”“What sucks is that I miss you,” Harry said quietly.“Yeah, I know,” Louis said kindly. “Me too. I'll see the doctor in four days, I'm sure he'll tell me I can fly.”

_Four days?_

“What am I supposed to do until you get back?” Harry said. He then winced, hearing how pitiful he sounded.

“What are you supposed to do?” Louis laughed. “What are _you_ supposed to do? What am I supposed to do!? I can't walk further than the kitchen and back. I'm going crazy. I've been throwing things for the dog but he only brings them back half the time.”

“I've got a photo shoot tomorrow, and then we're visiting a local church's youth group to film there,” Harry told Louis. “But maybe we could skype when I get back in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis said. “It'd be pretty early, but everyone gets up early here anyway. Hey, make sure the assistants follow the photos of outfits I gave them, okay? To a T. No improvising.”

“Got it.”

Harry wanted to talk to Louis properly. Say it now, over the phone, when Louis couldn't see him blush and he wouldn't have to deal with the looks Louis gave him. Harry wanted Louis to know that when he said he missed him, it was true; Harry really, really missed Louis.

“Can we do something when you get back?” Harry asked. “Yeah, what?”

“I don't know what. Just... not hiding inside, in blanket forts. But not running away from the paparazzi either. Can we just go do something?”

“Something?” Louis sounded amused.

“Something,” Harry repeated.

“'Arry Styles.” Louis _definitely_ sounded amused. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Ew! No!” Harry said quickly.

Harry's parents had never said he was allowed to date, but he'd also never asked them if he could.

He definitely wasn't permitted to go on a date with a boy, though.

“Well, that's a shame,” Louis went on. “I would have said yes.”

Well.

Harry's heart was thumping.

“How can I ask someone on a date? I've never even been on one,” Harry said, hoping Louis wouldn't point out that his argument made no sense.

Louis laughed harder. “I've been on dates. I could plan a date.”

_Well._

“It's not easy to date a man like me though.” Harry could swear he could _hear_ Louis' wink. “I'm not easy to impress. You'd have to wear nice clothes.”

“Shame someone destroyed my Prada sweater,” Harry pointed out.“ _Non_ , _nice_ clothes. Really nice clothes.”Harry definitely didn't have anything nicer than the Prada sweater. “Expensive clothes,” Louis said. “And take me to a very fancy restaurant.”

Harry didn't have a lot of money. Well, he did - he had quite a lot of money for spending on this tour; fat paychecks beginning to roll in from each episode and all the countries it was being aired in, he had more money than he'd ever had in his life, but he probably didn't have enough money for _really nice clothes_ or _a very fancy restaurant._

Which shouldn't matter, because he wasn't asking Louis on a _date_ for goodness' sake, he just wanted to spend some time with him doing something normal for once.

Louis _had_ said he'd say yes, though. To a date.

“You need to assimilate, Louis,” Harry decided. “Pardon?” Louis' faux-incredulousness was clear.

“When American people go on dates, they go to chain restaurants. Or amusement parks. Carnivals. Bowling.”

“You're the expert now, are you?" Louis teased. “What happened to ' _I've never been on a date'_?” Harry ignored him and continued. “Americans wear jeans on dates, nothing stupid-fancy.”“I have jeans,” Louis said slowly.

Frick, frick, _frick_. Harry's heart was _pounding._

“We promised to swap presents when you got back, right?” Harry reminded him. “ _Oui,_ ” Louis agreed.“Then it makes sense. To just go... do something together. So we can swap presents.” “All right,” Louis said. “We'll just go _do something_ together.”

“Good,” Harry said.Harry sort of regretted de-escalating the conversation, when -“Do you want me to wear jeans, then? Like any true American would?” - and Harry's heart was beating wild again. “Yes.”

“Okay, but if this 'doing something' is enough to want to 'do something' again, we're doing it my way.”

Harry couldn't help smiling. “Don't get ahead of yourself.”

 _This_ was why Harry missed Louis, this was why he needed Louis with him. Harry's head was swirling and Louis was the only one who made it stop. Harry needed Louis' whole body pressed close, soothing him and quieting his mind and reminding him what this was all for, the yucky feeling in his gut and the burning worry in his head, it was all for how Harry felt when he was in the same room as Louis.

“It's late for you, _non?_ ” Louis asked.“Yeah.”“Go to sleep. Why do you always wanna stay up?”“I have a lot of things to think about.”“You'll exhaust yourself. Think about it in the daytime, oui?” “Fine, I'll try,” Harry agreed. “Talk soon?”“Sooner than soon,” Louis said.

Harry hung up the phone, but he wasn't tired.He reasoned he hadn't promised Louis he'd go to sleep straight away.

Harry absentmindedly flipped open the hotel's tourism magazine and as if by some cruel stroke of fate, it fell open to a page of advertisements. Next to ads for mechanics and the 56th annual Arizona Quilt show, there was one for TrevorSpace, reading _TrevorSpace is a social networking site for LGBTQ youth ages 13 through 24 and their friends and allies._

Harry googled the acronym, double-checking he knew what it was. Yep. He wasn't LGBT or Q. He didn't need TrevorSpace.

He pulled the minibar door open instead and... oh. Wine. Little mini-bottles of it.

Harry had finished half of the single-serve bottle when he did open up the TrevorSpace website. It was part of the Trevor Project; they had a hotline, and a text line as well.

Harry couldn't justify any reason to contact a LGBTQ organisation.

Maybe after he finished the small bottle of wine, he wouldn't need a reason.

An hour later, Harry had finished _two_ of the small bottles and was feeling sort of wine-y in his head. He was in the middle of a long chat to a very nice woman. He told her about his friend – his friend who had maybe always _felt_ like this, but he'd just never had to _think_ about it before until he met someone who somehow made him think about it properly. He kind of liked this person, and this person was a guy, you see, so lately he was thinking about it a lot. And now what was he – his friend, he meant – supposed to do about it? Because being gay would change everything, absolutely everything.

She told him while it would possibly change a lot of things, most of them for the better, it didn't have to change everything. _Your friend doesn't have to tell anyone he doesn't want to tell. He can just start by getting more comfortable within himself, then letting a few trusted people know._

Harry hadn't thought about it like that. He knew secrets were bad, and it was wrong to lie, but... telling the truth slowly was still telling the truth, wasn't it?

Conversation over and navigating the bedspread with slight difficulty, Harry whispered very quietly to himself, just trying it out.

“I might be gay.”

It felt very scary and absolutely earth-shakingly enormous, but also kind of like someone had pulled the plug on a bath full of dirty water, and some yucky things were beginning to wash away.

It was definitely enough for one night, though.

\-----

Ankle all but healed and a small crate of his parent's wine checked in with his suitcases, another crate already sent off to the town's priest as a thank-you gift, Louis' plane touched down in Tucson.

 _You've got your own room, right?_ Louis sent to Harry. _Yep. 204 :)_

_Leave the door unlocked?_ ___I can't wait to see you!!!!!!!!_

Two hours later Louis was in yet another hotel, checking into his own room to keep up appearances and then tiptoeing down the hall to Harry's room. He let himself in quietly, feeling a sense of relief when he recognised Harry's suitcase on the floor, and locked the door behind him.

Louis continued to creep over to the bed where Harry lay asleep. How much he'd missed the boy - _his_ boy suddenly crashed over him in a giant wave, leaving him momentarily unable to breathe until the water ebbed away and there was air again. It wasn't conversing that he'd missed, they'd talked plenty, and it wasn't Harry's appearance in general, he'd seen it on Skype and in photos.

It was _this_ , being so close to Harry that he could smell him, generic laundry powder and teenage boy and Chanel Allure, could breathe the same air he was breathing. It was the things a webcam couldn't pick up – where Harry's earlobes met the side of his head, the stray hairs just outside the flat line of his eyebrows, each individual spiral of brown curls on the top of his head, the way his fingers curved when relaxed, the pinkie finger sticking out from the rest. It was as if Harry was reaching for Louis, waiting for Louis' pinkie finger to intertwine with his own.

Louis leant over the bed, looping his smallest finger through Harry's.

Harry's eyes slowly opened, and he appeared to be too tired to form a smile. He just tightened his pinkie and pulled. Louis gave into the tug and lay down on the bed besides Harry. He untied his shoelaces with his free hand, kicking off his shoes.

“I've gotta tell you something,” was the first thing Harry said, voice slow as he woke up. “But I don't know if I can.”

“It's all right,” Louis assured him, one-handedly pulling off his pants and dipping his legs under the duvet, fitting into the warmth Harry had filled the bed with.

Harry shut his eyes, but continued to talk. “No, gotta say now, while it's dark and I'm sleepy.” “Okay,” Louis said.“It's a secret,” Harry said nervously, twisting his hand to fit all his fingers between Louis'.

“Mm-hm,” Louis hummed. He couldn't help but wonder, and anyone would, but Harry was gripping his hand tight and Harry's palm was uncharacteristically sweaty and Harry's eyes didn't look tired-shut, they looked forced-shut, hiding. So Louis waited.

Harry was quiet for many more minutes, his breathing firm and deliberate.

After another moment, Louis wrapped an arm around Harry and pulled him in close, so he could breathe right against Louis and not into the unfamiliar space of a hotel room.

“It's a big, big secret, and you can't tell anybody, okay. Promise?” Harry said. “I promise,” Louis said firmly, stroking Harry's back.

Twenty minutes must have passed and Louis honestly thought Harry had fallen asleep, when the silence was broken with a whisper from Harry's lips.

“I'm-” Harry cut himself off and exhaled loudly.Louis waited, and Harry didn't continue, so Louis opened his mouth to ask, _you're?_ Harry cut him off.“I'm gay, Louis.”

Louis was momentarily stunned into silence.

“I decided a few days ago.” Harry began to ramble, frantic. “Not decided. Realised. Admitted. I don't know. I talked to this hotline the other night. And then I called my uncle the day after that and I told him I might be and he said that's okay if I was. But I _might_ not be. I am. I _am_. I'm sorry I kept saying I'm not, I know it hurt you, I'm sorry I kept saying it, it wasn’t even true. I am gay.” And then Harry was crying softly, sad and relieved, into Louis' shoulder, the fabric of Louis' top getting hot and soaked wet with tears.

Louis gripped Harry tight, far tighter than he normally held him, and pressed his lips down onto Harry's forehead. “ _Je suis fier de toi, mon petit. Vraiment,_ ” he said, the swell of pride in his chest pulling focus from the English speaking part of his brain for a second. “That's such a special thing to share and I'm really honoured that you've shared it with me.”

“I feel like puking,” Harry said shakily.

Louis was wearing a Krizia Robustella pullover, the perfect mix of comfort and style for travel, and it hadn't been cheap – but Harry was gripping onto Louis' hand for dear life and if he vomited out of nerves, Louis' wouldn't really mind if it got on his top.

He was relieved when a moment had passed and Harry wasn't sick, though. “Promise you won't tell anyone?” Harry whispered urgently.

“I promise,” Louis said vehemently, rubbing a steady up-and-down along Harry's back. “And I promise it's all going to be okay. You're going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine.”

“What if it's not, though?” Harry asked desperately through his tears.

“I'll be here, baby.” Louis took his hand back and cupped both of Harry's cheeks to wipe the tears away, just like he had done at the nightclub in New York when he'd only known Harry for a couple of days. “It's going to be okay, but I'll be here no matter what happens.”

“You _promise_?” Harry pushed.“ _Croix de bois, croix de fer, si je mens, je vais en enfer,_ ” Louis teased, hoping to make Harry smile.It worked – with a smile, Harry said, “I'll assume that means yes.”

Louis was scared to hear himself say those things, because they were big promises. They sounded like the promises of someone warm and caring and selfless, not from someone who had only ever given to get back, someone who'd stopped caring about anything, someone like the person Louis was two months ago. He realised he wasn't aspiring to stay that same person.

Louis gritted his teeth and sighed and rolled his eyes at himself, but he too had a confession. “You make me want to be a better person, Harry.”Harry took a shaky breath, a very snotty sniff, and nuzzled his face in closer to Louis' chest. Louis stroked his hair, curls wild and soft. “I missed your noodle hair.”

“Noodle hair?” Harry objected.

“Because it's curly,” Louis explained. “Right Shirley Temple, aren't you?”

“Who?”

Louis gave a small laugh under his breath. “You don't know her?”

“Is this some old person thing?” Harry said, nudging Louis with his knee.

“Tease all you want. Her curls are far better than yours, anyway.”

Harry dismissed Louis' insult. “You love my noodle-head.”

Not having discussed love very often in English (or in French, for that matter), Louis wasn't sure where the nuance sat with that one – was Harry saying Louis loved his hair, or loved him?

Harry gave one of those heavy, shaky sighs, the ones that only come after crying. “It's all right,” Louis said softly. “I'm home now.”“America isn't your home,” Harry replied with a thick laugh.It was too much to say out loud, way too much, but...

Harry felt like home.

Which was revolting, sappy, disgustingly tender. Louis had just been back to France, he knew that was home, it felt like home. But in a way that eating your vegetables or making yourself sit up straight felt – it wasn't particularly enjoyable, it was almost a small labour, but it's just what you had to do. France was just who Louis was, he couldn't change that.

Coming back to Harry felt like returning to where he belonged, though. It was absurd, beyond reason, but it worked for Louis.

“You were gone so long.” Harry sighed.“I was only gone ten days,” Louis protested.

“Eleven,” Harry corrected him. “And you're very lucky you got back today, because tomorrow is a special day.”

“It is?”“We met a month ago,” Harry pointedly reminded him.“Already?” Louis was honestly surprised.“I've got the day off tomorrow. You do too,” Harry said. “Can we go out?” Louis pondered it for a second. “Why don't we go out now?”“Now?” Harry pulled his head back to look at Louis.

“Yes, now!” Louis coaxed. “It's three am, no one's going to be around. We can go for a walk on the street and hold hands and no one will see. Find a gas station for a splendid feast of potato chips and shitty hot chocolate. Play music off your phone and dance in the street.”

“I didn't say I wanted to hold your hand,” Harry mumbled, shy. “'Course you do. You're gay, aren't you?” Louis winked.Harry's eyes opened wide, but he nodded. “Shh, okay. It's a secret.” “Why don't we go tell your secret to the night, then?”

“All right... Let's go out!” Harry got out of bed, and Louis followed suit, putting his pants back on again.

“It's fine if you don't want to hold my hand,” Louis added. Harry just dropped his arms and gave Louis a _look:_ duh.

\-----

“Have you got your present for me, then?” Louis asked excitedly before they'd left Harry's room. “I'll run back to my suitcase and get yours.”

Harry yawned, half-stalling but also just half-asleep still; Louis was still running on a different timezone and seemed a bit more alert than Harry was.

“It's dumb,” Harry explained. “It's really dumb. I don't like it, I wish I'd found you something better.”

Louis paused, drumming fingers against his thigh, just waiting for Harry with a pointed look.

“Okay.” Harry sighed in resignation, pulling a plastic bag from his suitcase. “So I went to the science museum with Eleanor.”

“With Eleanor?” Louis raised his eyebrows.

“It was fun,” Harry admitted. “She's nice. I learned all this stuff about evolution. I even got a book about it at the giftshop, and I got something there for you, too.”

“Will you tell me what you learned?” Louis smiled. “You'd be interested?”“Of course.”

Harry looked down at the gift shop bag in his hands. “Eleanor and I talked a lot about it. The whole time we went through the museum, then when we got burgers afterwards too. We discussed all sorts of stuff, science, ethics, faith. It was really, really interesting. She let me talk.”

“Of course she let you talk,” Louis said, bemused.

“I've never been allowed to be smart before,” Harry explained, looking back up at Louis. “I think I sound like an idiot half the time because I wasn't taught to question things? You know. I was praised for just... recycling words.”

Louis gave a sympathetic grimace.

“That's what this whole TV show is, isn't it?” Harry went on. “Parrot-Harry, repeating everything he's been taught. Not allowed to have my own opinions, am I?”

“You are here,” Louis said. “You can be you around me. You can be smart, you can have your own opinions.”

“I know, and it's good. Well, it's my very own _opinion_ that this present sucks.” Harry threw the bag at Louis.

Louis pulled the t-shirt out, an odd expression on his face as he read out loud, “ _I Went To The Phoenix Science Center and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt._ ”

It wasn't even funny.

Louis was his best friend, and Harry hadn't even gotten him something good.

“Sorry,” Harry apologised helplessly.

Louis let out a loud laugh, and said, “Wait here, just – just wait here.” He ran out of the main door.

Harry was left alone in the hotel room, cringing at his stupid present. Of all the things he could have bought in Arizona, he went with a stupid t-shirt.

Five minutes later Louis had returned, hands held behind his back and an enormous smile on his face, eyes crinkled up in happiness.

“What've you got back there?” Harry asked suspiciously. Louis gave an excited bop on his heels.

“Show me!” Harry insisted.Louis flung his arms out and a small pile of clothes was thrown at Harry. “Stupid t-shirts!” Louis cried out gleefully. “I got you stupid t-shirts too, look!” “You did?” Harry asked. “You're not just lying to make me feel better?”

“ _Non!_ ” Louis insisted. “Look! These are my favourite tops ever, my favourite thing in the whole world.” Which was – _wow_. “I used to order them by post when I was a kid. A teenager, I mean – your age. I want you to have them.”

Harry inspected the tops he'd caught in his arms. There was four, two of them had the sleeves cut off to a raw edge. One had a lemon printed on the front, the rest had sort of abstract art on them, and they all said _Stone Roses_. One had a giant stain on it - “Red wine,” Louis explained cheerily – and one had a giant hole in the side.

“Stupid t-shirts,” Harry smiled. “You really got me stupid t-shirts too?”

“Put one on!” Louis insisted, himself pulling on his science museum souvenir. “We're going out, we're having a stupid t-shirt party.”

\-----

Louis did hold Harry's hand as they walked through the night, and Harry did more than let him. He pulled Louis' hand up to his mouth and kissed it, saying, “Monsieur, welcome to the very exclusive, invitation-only, middle-of-the-night stupid t-shirt party. Your chariot awaits.”

“My chariot?” Louis asked, playing along.“Yes,” Harry nodded, pointing at Louis' shoes. “They'll take you wherever you want to go.”

It looked like any other town, but with the horizon dotted with cactuses at points. Louis just picked a direction at random. The streets were pleasingly sparse – after a few minutes they walked past a few drunk girls and while later, a homeless man, but no one took a second look at them.

Rain began to fall from the sky, and Louis made to run for cover but Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

“Kiss me,” he requested.“It's raining.” Louis blinked raindrops out of his eyes.“Kissing in the rain!” Harry insisted. “Like in the movies. It's like, a thing, isn't it?”

“It's wet, is what it is.” Louis laughed, but he wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and kissed him, raindrops patting a timid massage over his shoulders as he moved his lips with Harry's.

“Hi,” Louis murmured against Harry's mouth.“Hi.”“I missed you,” Louis said for what felt like the millionth time.“It's nice to be kissing outside.” Harry leant back to look up at Louis.“One day you'll be able to do it any time you want. Even in the daytime,” Louis promised. “Not any _where_ , though. Not back home in Texas,” Harry said sadly.

It broke Louis' heart to hear it, absolutely broke it. Louis' parents had only ever been proud of him. He'd been able to kiss boys in the middle of the afternoon when he went on dates in the town nearest to the farm, it didn't matter if people gossiped. He'd been yelled at a few times, insults hurled at him, but he was always ready to say something worse back. By the time he'd gotten to Paris, he was used to the occasional stare or rude facial expression, and only paid attention the kisses themselves.

“Maybe one day I'll take you somewhere far, far away,” Louis dreamed, linking his fingers through Harry's and walking him on through the light rain. “Somewhere we can kiss in broad daylight.”

“I'd like that,” Harry said, tightening his grip on Louis' rain-wet hand.

After a moment walking in happy silence, Louis lifted Harry's hand in his to point. “Gas station, up ahead.”

“You know, last time a gay man took me to a gas station, it was my uncle, and he bought me condoms,” Harry commented casually.

Louis gave a small cough of surprise, and asked, “I mean – do you want to...? Do you want condoms?”

“Well, I've still got the ones he bought,” Harry hastily added.Which wasn't _not_ wanting condoms.“Just a feast, then,” Louis said, pulling Harry into the bright light of the 24-hour gas station.

\-----

“We've got umbrellas,” the attendant said helpfully, pointing to a small stand.

Harry looked up at Louis, who shrugged. “I think we like the rain, don't we 'Arry?” “Yes we do. Thanks, though,” Harry added.“Suit yourself,” the attendant said.

Harry was perusing the fridge of drinks when Louis came over, wildly waving something in Harry's face.

“Look, 'Arry! Cheese in a can!” he cried out.

Harry shrugged. “Do you want it? We'll have to get chips or something to eat it off.”

“ _Cheese! In a can!_ ” Louis repeated. “It's a real thing! I never actually saw it before!”

“Of course it's a real thing.” Harry laughed as he selected two bottles of gatorade. “It's not really _that_ good.”

“We've got to try it.”“Okay.” Harry shrugged. “Be my guest.”

They got an assortment of candy and some bottled water too, and when they got to the register Louis reached for his wallet.

“I can get it,” Harry said quickly, pulling out his own wallet. Louis just looked at Harry and gave him a small smile.It wasn't dinner at a fancy restaurant, but it was a start.

They walked past a small field with a few large rocks in it and Louis pointed in suggestion.

“I think it's someone's property,” Harry said carefully. “But they're not using it right now, are they?”

“You don't think there's snakes, do you?” Louis asked, suddenly nervous as they walked across the field.

Harry shrugged. “Might be.”Louis' eyes went wide and he walked quite gingerly towards the big rocks.“No, like this,” Harry said, stomping his own feet. “Loud footsteps, so you scare them away.”

They sat on a rock together, fairly wet by now, but it wasn't particularly cold and the rain was light enough.

“Tilt your head back,” Harry instructed, reaching into the bag from the gas station. “Open your mouth.”

Louis eyed him warily, but he did it, eyes shut tight in mock-fear.

Harry gave the can of cheese a shake, pointing the nozzle into Louis' mouth and shooting out a generous amount.

Louis gave a small noise of surprise, and when Harry took the can away Louis left his lips open for a moment before closing his mouth and tilting his head back to a normal level. He moved his jaw around a bit, then swallowed.

“Mon petit, that's absolutely disgusting,” he said, but he grabbed the can right out of Harry's hand. Harry laughed. “Here, have it on a chip,” he said, passing the bag over. “It's even better.”

After sharing a few chocolate bars and wiping sticky hands off on wet grass, they leant back on the rock, looking up at the stars.

Harry waited for a shooting star, but he never spotted one.

“Good dinner,” Louis commented.

“Yeah.” Harry tilted his foot to the side, brushing the toe of his shoe against Louis' ankle.

Louis gave a girly shriek, leaping up on to the rock and hissing, “'Arry, get up here! I felt a snake!”

Harry laughed so hard he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. “That was my foot.”

“'Arry,” Louis scolded, giving a funny French hand gesture. “That's mean.”

“No, I was just trying to, like...” Harry shot an embarrassed look at Louis. “Play footsies, or whatever.”

“Ah.” Louis stepped back down off the rock. He sat next to Harry and pulled at Harry's hand, placing it on his chest. “You scared me! My heart's pounding, feel?”

Harry's heart was pounding too, which wasn't right.

Except maybe it was. He was gay and he was out on a not-date with a man and when else was your heart supposed to pound, if not now?

\-----

A faint glow crossed Harry's face and Louis looked up, seeing lights had come on in the house by the field. “Ah, think our landlord's gotten up,” Louis said, standing up. “Have we got all our rubbish?”“ _Rubbish_ ,” Harry mimicked Louis' accent with a smile. “It's called trash.”

“You're called trash,” Louis teased. He flung an arm around Harry and it felt wonderful, to be able to do that outside without second-guessing it.

They wandered on through Tucson, the rain slowly dripping down heavier.

“Think we should start making our way back,” Louis said reluctantly, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes.

“All right,” Harry agreed.

They turned around and began walking towards the hotel, but the rain started to fall from the sky even harder until Louis was wiping it out of his eyes just so he could see properly.

“Can we stop somewhere? Wait for it to ease off?” Harry asked, pushing his own wet hair back.

Louis looked around them. “I don't want to huddle in front of a shop or something, in case a car comes past us and pulls over, you know?”

Harry nodded in understanding. Then - “Oh, oh, I know! Follow me!” He moved out from under Louis' arm to grab his hand and pull him along the street, back in the direction they'd just come from.

They ran for a few minutes until Harry turned, yanking Louis by the hand to follow him through a gate and up to a church. It was large, not in the larger-than-life modern way Harry's church in Texas had been, but in a beautiful way, narrow and tall.

“They keep them open sometimes,” Harry explained, walking Louis up the steps to the large arched double doors. He paused for a moment – Louis wasn't sure if he was hoping, or actually praying – and pushed. The doors opened.

Harry peered inside nervously. “Hello?” and was met with silence. “Nobody's here, c'mon,” Harry said, leading Louis into the church.

“Oh my... gosh,” Louis said once inside, looking up at the gold-bordered stained glass that spanned the wall behind the altar. It was dark outside but the glass seemed to pick up all possible light, the image it displayed practically glowing in a million different glittering colors. “It's like a Valentino dress.”

“A what?” Harry asked.“A designer, you know?” Harry shook his head.“Never mind,” Louis chuckled.

The Styles' church in Dallas had been enormous, multi-level like a large theatre, with long cushioned benches and a giant stage up front, huge projector screens flanking it.

This church was completely different, and probably much older. Wooden pews lined either side of the aisle, humble and plain, simple clover shapes cut into the sides. The back of each pew had a small shelf on it, red bibles and green books resting intermittently along it. You couldn't fully tell in the dim light, coming from small lanterns along the walls, but they seemed about the same pale green as Harry's eyes.

“What's the other book?” Louis asked, pointing. “Hymns,” Harry said simply.

Louis looked up. Polished wooden beams curved to meet a high ceiling, a small skylight so high up that Louis' eyes couldn't properly focus on it.

There wasn't a stage at the end of this aisle, just a low wooden divider and then a small altar, plain with white cloth over it and a candleholder either end.

They just stood in the aisle, dripping wet. It was comfortably warm inside the church, but not enough so that their clothes would dry off in any great speed.

“I don't really know what to do in here,” Louis admitted. “When I went to your church I just stood to the side with the film crew, remember?”

Louis didn't believe in God, but he could still feel that it was a sacred space. He felt like they were being watched.

“You can sit in here,” Harry suggested, gesturing to the pews.

Louis walked towards the middle and sat down, wood hard and kind of uncomfortable under his wet pants. Harry stood just to the side in front of Louis, leaning back against the pew behind him. Water was dripping off his shirt, landing on one of the bibles stacked there. Louis didn't mention it.

“Tonight's been good,” Harry commented.“I agree.” Louis smiled at Harry. “I know you wanted to 'do something', I don't know if we've

really done _something_ tonight, but...”“It's been nice to do not-something,” Harry finished for him.

After a comfortable silence, Harry asked, “How many secrets can you admit in one night?” “You hiding a lot of secrets?” Louis teased, poking Harry in the side.“Just one more.”“Confession's something they do in churches, right?” Louis reasoned, gesturing around him. “This isn't a Catholic church,” Harry pointed out.

“Well, we can do it our way, then.” Louis indicated at Harry to talk. “Confess.”

Harry bit his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, looking up at the high arched ceiling above them.

“I like someone,” he said. “That's why I asked you the other day if you like someone.” “Okay.” Louis was unable to stop himself from smiling. At least Harry was still looking away. “I'm pretty sure we're just friends, though,” Harry continued. “Me and the person I like.”

Louis had certainly changed in America, but maybe he hadn't changed that much after all because he was still incredibly self-assured, and his patience was wearing thin, and while he had tried to not push Harry too far, tonight seemed to be a night of admissions and maybe Louis could squeeze out one more truth.

“You and I are more than friends, Harry,” Louis said daringly.

Harry's eyes snapped back down to look at him. Harry didn't open his mouth, just waved his finger back and fourth, pointing at Louis, pointing at himself, pointing at Louis again. It was a question.

“Am I wrong?” Louis asked.Harry didn't answer the question, just posed another: “This a date, then?”

Louis shrugged. “You paid for 'dinner', didn't you? One could get the impression that this was a date. Of course, one could be wrong.”

Harry sniffed, scrunching up his nose in thought. “Can you count gas station snacks and sitting on a rock in a field as a date?”

Louis reached for Harry's hands, pulling Harry to stand right in front of Louis' knees. “I think it's going to be the best we'll get for a while, mon petit,” he said sadly. “I'm sorry. You at least deserve someone your own age, who you can go out in public with, right in the daytime.”

“If I was going out with a guy in public, it could only be you.” Harry said, stepping closer to Louis. His face got serious. “I can't have sex after a date like this, though.”

“That's fine _mon petit_ ,” Louis said immediately.“It wouldn't be right,” Harry went on. “It has to be right. The way you said dates go: the fancy restaurant, the nice clothes.”Louis nodded slowly. “You want that? To go on a date, and then... have sex?”

“Not tomorrow or anything!” Harry said hurriedly. “Not in a rush. But maybe in a bit? In quite a bit.”

“I'll need a bit of time anyway, to figure out how we can pull it off,” Louis admitted. Tonight had been good, but cheap junk food and getting soaked to the core by rain wasn't exactly a dream date. Harry deserved something grandiose – and he wanted it. He wanted it _with Louis._

It seemed to be decided.

“Rain's stopped,” Louis commented, suddenly noticing the silence outside. “Did you want to go back out?”

“Not really.”

Harry moved closer to the pew, placed one knee either side of Louis' hips then settled on his lap. He didn't even start it with a kiss – just laid a hand on Louis' inner thigh, rubbing at him through fabric still damp from the rain.

Louis sighed contentedly. Normally he'd feel like he was melting a bit, softening under Harry's touch, but the hard pew seemed to keep him perfectly upright and alert.

Harry moved his hand closer, and the wood of pew wasn't the only hard thing. “You're...” Harry trailed off, finger stroking a line along Louis' cock through his pants. “Of course I am,” Louis said lowly. “Look at you. Look at your body.”

Harry looked amazing, The rain had made his curls springy, and his damp t-shirt was sticking to him; the iconic Stone Roses paint-splatter cover art was flush against his skin, sleeves framing Harry's biceps, just like they had on Louis at the same age.

Harry's jeans were dark from how wet they were, his strong thighs flanking Louis' own. Harry had nice legs, small, soft, under the denim there'd be dark hair on light skin. Harry's thighs were as steady as could be right now, and Louis just wanted them trembling, squeezing tight around him.

Louis slid his hands under Harry's shirt – Harry in _Louis'_ shirt - slowly peeling it up and off him. The wet fabric stuck to Harry's elbows and Louis stopped pulling, leaving Harry's arms trapped loosely in front him. Harry didn't try to pull his arms out further, just left them wrapped up in front of his now-bare chest.

Harry just sat, obedient and bound, in Louis' lap as Louis ran his hands over Harry's chest, skin smooth and supple from the rain, rosy pink nipples on soft pale skin.

Louis wasn't sure how much you were allowed to do in a church, especially one as nice as this – but with his arms stuck in front of him, Harry lightly drummed his fingers over Louis' crotch and leant in, claiming a kiss off Louis' lips.

Without pulling back, Harry undid Louis' pants and pulled his hard cock out, calmly and slowly stroking him towards his edge.

And - of course Harry felt like home because this was perfect, the way Harry's hands found Louis like they'd always known him, pulling all of Louis' pleasure and focus into his dick until he felt like he was glowing, skin beginning to heat up under his wet clothes, breathing increasingly fast.

Harry gave Louis a firm squeeze, moving his hand up to rub over the head of Louis' cock. Louis' whole body sighed, but the pew was digging into his ass and his back and it wasn't comfortable, to the point of distraction.

“Get on your knees,” Louis gasped out. Harry obeyed immediately, getting up off Louis' lap and dropping down, his green eyes looking up at Louis.

Louis reasoned that Harry was probably more than used to kneeling in a church.Louis stood up. His science center top was weighed down with rain, so he pulled it off, dropping it onto the pew with a soft wet slap.

Harry leant forward, tugged Louis' pants down to his knees and lined Louis' thighs with kisses. Arms not free to balance himself, he overshot a bit, pressing his mouth right into Louis' skin.

Louis steadied Harry, then ran one hand up to Harry's face, the other hand lining his cock up with Harry's mouth.

Harry opened his mouth immediately, but Louis pulled his hips back.

“You want this?” Louis asked, stroking himself right in front of Harry's face.

“Yes,” Harry said.

Louis waited, and Harry went on. “You know I do. I love blowjobs, you know I do, I want to suck you. Taste you.”

God, he was absolutely perfect, kneeling on the floor, arms held together in front of him. He'd even clasped his hands together, like he was praying down to the floor.

“You look so good,” Louis said, hand still slowly jerking himself. He reached a finger up to his tip, gliding over the small drop of wetness. He then ran his fingertip over Harry's lips and Harry went right for it, licking and sucking Louis' finger long past the point of the precome being swallowed away.

When Harry finally pulled his mouth off, he asked, “That wet enough?” “For what?” Louis asked, stroking Harry's cheek with his dry thumb.

“For you to put your finger in me,” Harry said, voice burning with need. “Don't want to go back to the hotel for lube. Want you to do it here.”

“Here?” Louis asked. He knew. He just wanted to hear Harry _say_ it. “In the church,” Harry confirmed.

“You want me to finger you in a church?” Louis couldn't have been more pleased or – _fuck,_ more turned on. “What, spread you out across the altar and push my finger in as deep as I can? You're so desperate for it you can't wait 'til we get back?”

Harry shook his head. “Can't wait. I want you, here. Want this to be a good date, you know, want it to be memorable.”

Louis groaned and pushed forward, letting Harry wrap his lips around his cock. “I will remember this for a long time, Harry,” he said, hand finding the back of Harry's head to guide him.

Harry mouthed enthusiastically for a while, wet and tight around Louis' cock, nodding his head back and fourth, apparently never tiring. Still not exactly an expert at it, he slurped and spluttered, but sucked so hard his cheeks were pulled in. He didn't break eye contact with Louis once, even when he went too far down and his eyes watered.

“I'm close, Harry,” Louis warned him.

Harry pulled right off, a small strand of spit bridging the gap before breaking. “Have you ever been to a baptism?”

 “What?” Louis asked, peering down at Harry for clarification. “No...?”“So in church, when they christen babies, they anoint their foreheads with oil.”

Louis just stared at Harry. Mid-copulation mini-lessons seemed to be a bizarre habit of Harry's bordering on a kink, but at least he always went somewhere with it...

“Will you come on my face?” Harry asked.

 _Christ._ Louis definitely wasn't expecting that. “On your forehead?” Louis checked, not able to keep his voice steady as Harry brought his loosely bound arms up so he could jerk Louis with his hand. “You want me to what... _anoint_ you?”

Louis was at least half-joking but Harry, tongue between his teeth in concentration and eyes fixed on Louis' cock, just nodded determinedly.

“Are you sure that's-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry insisted. “Makes sense, you know. Christening. Rebirth. I'm gay, okay,” and – of course he was, look at him, he was on his knees at Louis' feet, licking his lips and pulling at Louis' hard cock, his free hand splayed over Louis' pelvis. Harry's own erection was obvious in his snug, wet jeans, he couldn't be much more _gay_ than he was in this moment. “I finally eff-ing admitted it, and I can't tell anyone else, so I wanna do something to at least mark the occasion.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis said weakly, reaching an arm out to grip at the backrest of the pew behind him, steadying himself.

Harry's hand squeezed tighter as it flew over Louis' cock. “My first date, isn't it.”“Yes,” Louis forced out. His breath automatically jumped up a level as he got closer, breathing so fast he was almost dizzy. " _Our_ first date."

A tingle built up promisingly, spreading through him until it burst.

Hand still on Louis' cock, Harry bowed his head down with his eyes shut, lining the tip of Louis' cock up to his brow and Louis then came with a loud gasp that seemed to echo infinitely around the high ceiling above them. Come spilled out right onto Harry's face and Harry turned his head a fraction to the side, smearing it across his forehead. Louis continued to pulse out spurts that landed on Harry's skin and dripped down to his cheeks.

When Louis felt the intensity of his release ebb away, he lifted a hand to Harry's cheek but Harry jerked his head away. “Don't. I like how it feels, leave it.”

Louis all but hauled Harry up, pulling him out into the aisle. He yanked his own pants back up and ripped Harry's t-shirt off his arms, struggling to get Harry's wet jeans off him, his underwear too. He brought Harry to the foot of the altar. Face still wet with come, Harry just lay back placidly, tilting his head up to look at the stained glass behind him.

“It's so pretty,” he said softly.“You're prettier,” Louis said, leaning down for a kiss. “Wish you could see yourself, face all messy with your cheeks flushed beneath. Strawberries and cream, you are.”

Louis kissed Harry again. It started off sweet but rapidly became fervent, lips pressing down hard and tongue sliding against tongue. Harry whined high in his throat so Louis pulled back, pushing one finger into Harry's mouth.

While Harry sucked, Louis dictated, “You'll tell me if it hurts, okay? If it's not wet enough. I don't want to hurt you."

Louis lifted his soaked finger out of Harry's mouth and settled himself between Harry's legs. Harry obediently bent his knees up, framing Louis' shoulders.

“Breathe deep for me, baby,” Louis instructed. “Relax.”

Harry nodded, closing his eyes as if to mentally prepare himself. When he sighed out Louis gently pushed his finger in, deep enough to pass the two strong rings of muscle at the start of Harry's perfect, tight little hole. Louis kept his eye on Harry's face until his brow furrowed, so Louis paused the movement of his finger.

Louis wrapped his free hand around Harry's big, hard cock, slowly tugging at him to give him a different sensation to focus on.

After a moment, Harry requested, “Deeper. Oh my god, please, _deeper_.”

Louis wasn't sure if it was wet enough, but they had no lube, and he certainly wasn't going to _spit_. Not on Harry, he was too beautiful for that. Louis wriggled his hips back, leaning right down to where his finger was inside Harry and without taking his finger out, began to lick at Harry's rim, easy to find when it was tight around his finger, the skin of Harry's hole smooth, crinkled in tiny tight folds. Louis enjoyed being completely messy about it – he had to be, had to get Harry wet enough so Louis could push his finger right in.

Louis sat back up did just that; moved his finger in deeper and slowly, gently began to curve his finger upwards.

Harry hummed a high, “ _Mmph!”_ and his legs began to twitch a little.Louis pulled his finger out slowly, then in again, pushing up into Harry's belly, rubbing a slow circle into the flesh.

“Feels kind of funny,” Harry whimpered.

“Yep,” Louis confirmed. “Is it bad?”

“No.” Harry's voice was hushed in awe as he slowly shook his head. “It's very, very good.”

Louis increased the pressure, other hand still slowly sliding over Harry's cock, and Harry wailed, “Oh my _god!_ ”

“Say _my_ name,” Louis encouraged.“Louis,” Harry gasped, and that was much, much better. “Louis, Louis, _Louis,_ that feels so good.”

The rain started to fall heavy again outside, tapping loudly against the stained glass. Louis couldn't help but look up briefly, wet raindrops trailing down the outside, tracking rainbow lines over the picture in the glass, falling down to the ground. There was something musical about the way the rain was falling, not hitting a monotone drum like Louis was used to. The way the rain fell on the church sounded like it was part of a song.

Louis could feel the sanctified power of the building around him, and feel Harry's hole, tight and wet and hot around his finger, clenching strong as his legs began to tremble either side of Louis. Harry was gasping, thrusting his hips up just a fraction to push his cock into Louis' fist.

Louis gently pushed his finger in as deep as he could. Harry gasped and Louis asked greedily, “You like that?”

Harry nodded frantically. “Harder. More. Please.”

Very carefully, Louis pushed in another finger and Harry _moaned_ , back writhing against the floor, rim clenching tight over Louis' two fingers, before he began to relax around Louis again.

Louis beckoned his fingers up once more, and Harry gasped loudly, flinging his hands up to the altar behind him and gripping the white cloth so hard it got pulled down into a pile above Harry's head, silver candlesticks clattering down somewhere to the side of them.

“Now, Louis,” Harry whispered, and he came hard with several loud moans that again echoed around the building. Louis stroked him through it, guiding Harry's cock so his come landed on his chest, shining white drops to match the ones on his face.

Without pulling either hand away Louis leant forward, licking it up off Harry's chest, licking his own come off Harry's cheek, kissing him.

Harry gave Louis the sweetest smile, eyes absolutely adoring.

Louis retrieved their wet clothes, giving Harry's sticky face and chest rub with his damp t-shirt.

Harry pulled at Louis weakly, all relaxed and glowing after coming. Louis lay down next to him for a moment, slowly trailing fingers over Harry's arms and chest.

“Sun's starting to rise,” he realised, multicolour beams of light beginning to trickle through the stained glass. “We better get back to the hotel, hmm?”

Harry sighed, pulling his heavy clothes on. “Maybe we can risk a cab,” Louis levelled.

“Not from a church!” Harry quickly objected. “Can we walk down the street a bit – a lot – and get a cab from there?”

“Of course, _mon petit_ ,” Louis pulled Harry in for a hug, kissing his forehead. “Then we're spending all day in bed, catching up on sleep, _oui?_ ”

“Or... more of the same?” Harry suggested brightly.

Louis laughed, giving Harry's arm a soft punch. “We're not all sixteen, Harry, I'm not a machine like you.”

“Okay,” Harry laughed too. “Naptime it is.”

Louis took up Harry's hand to leave, but Harry said, “Louis, can you wait for a sec? Up the back? I just... want to talk to god for a minute. Tell him I'm gay.”

“Okay,” Louis nodded gently. If god was listening now then he was probably listening ten minutes ago too, when Harry was naked on his back begging for Louis to fuck him with two fingers, so god probably already knew - but that wasn't Louis' business. “Take your time.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

Louis' plan of catching up on sleep during the day seemed to be working fine for him. Harry, on the other hand, ended up just lying in bed with his phone in his hand. From about nine in the morning, it hadn't stopped going off.

It had been slowly building for months, ever since word slowly spread that he was going to be on TV, ever since people started seeing the trailers and billboards, and especially since people started seeing the show itself.

It had been growing bigger since the paparazzi had started to be around more often. Harry could tell sometimes Jeremy hadn't even told them to come.

It had been growing bigger since Harry's Twitter hit five million followers and his Instagram hit eight.

When _It's me, Amy – my cousin Brad goes to your church, we met three or four summers back??_ somehow got Harry's phone number and asked him for tickets to the live show coming up in Iowa, Harry had replied, _I'll see what I can do,_ and forwarded the message on to Linda.

When Rich from three years above Harry in school emailed him saying, _I know I said you could have my old nylon string for free because I had a new guitar but now that you're famous you should probably pay me back for it, don't you think?_ Harry had felt put-out. It wasn't nice to go back on a gift.

Harry just replied, _Oh I'm not famous it's just one TV show :) The guitar is at my parents' house in dallas still, I'm sure you'll be able to pick it up. I can let mom know you're coming._

Harry felt guilty for thinking it, but that guy could get stuffed anyways. Harry could now afford a guitar twice as nice as Rich's new one.

Harry had just tried to reply politely to everyone, until the day his Facebook account told him he had the maximum number of friends on there. He then tried to ignore it for the most part.

He definitely didn't want to talk to any one about it, what was he supposed to say? _I'm too popular?_ It would sound so stupid.

People excitedly sent him photos of gossip magazine pages, as if they were _proud_ of HARRY STYLES TAKES A CLUMSY TUMBLE ON STAGE LAST WEEK!

 _Lmao just like u, bro!!_ came a Facebook message from the guy who worked at the burger shop Harry and his family went to once a month. Harry was absolutely certain he had never fallen over at the burger shop. This guy had no idea what Harry was _just like._

Harry had never been unpopular at school, but he wasn't exactly in the In Crowd. He was never, ever popular enough to get snapchats from cheerleaders in their tiny green and white outfits captioned, _pls come home & take me to prom xoxo _

And now, by his count, he'd gotten five.

This morning was the first time he'd gotten a snap of a cheerleader _not_ in her costume - or anything else.

Harry said, “Urgh, gross!” so loudly he woke Louis up. “ _Je suis fatigué_ , 'Arry,” Louis said pitifully. “Please.”

“I'm sorry.” Harry deleted the snapchat app entirely before turning his phone off.

“Hey, you look sad,” Louis said, carefully looking at Harry. He turned in and flopped a sleep- heavy arm over Harry, pulling himself in closer. “Honestly, I'm jetlagged and I have a headache that won't go away until I get coffee, so I'm not _feeling_ very caring. But I do care, and you look like you need to talk. So, what's wrong?”

“Should I get you a coffee first?” Harry suggested. “I'll go find a good place. I could use a walk to clear my head anyway.”

“You're marvellous,” Louis said. “Give me a big kiss and put on some nice clothes before you go.”

Harry did give Louis a big kiss, then got up to get dressed. Louis kept his eyes open as he watched Harry, but he didn't object to any of Harry's choices. Harry couldn't help but feel proud of himself, gaining Louis' approval first try.

“I'll see you soon,” Harry said, about to leave.“Hey, don't forget your phone! Just in case,” Louis said, passing it over.

Harry turned it back on as he left the hotel. There was a dark car across the road that he eyed warily. He didn't see any movement, so maybe it wasn't paparazzi after all.

As soon as his phone found a signal it started going off again. It was a message from his sister Gemma, but instead of opening it the phone displayed the warning _Inbox Memory Full._

Harry quickly deleted some old messages that he didn't care about, but by the time he found a coffee shop, Gemma's message still hadn't come in full. Harry didn't know if it ever would. He hadn't spoken to Gemma since they fought about Louis the other week, and Harry didn't know what to say to her.

He was still mad, though, mad that so many people who barely knew him were sending him stupid messages – oh, great, here was another one from a number Harry didn't even have saved: _hey mate be a champ and tweet about my youtube channel? We put up a bunch of sick new prank videos!!_ \- when he barely had time to talk to his family.

Well, he did have time to call them. But every time he was speaking to his parents he felt scared and sick, worried that his brain might glitch and make him spit out, 'I'm gay,' and then it would all be over. He knew his parents didn't believe in keeping lies, but they also didn't believe in being gay. What was Harry supposed to say to them?

While Harry was waiting for Louis' coffee, his phone rang – but to his relief, it was someone he actually knew: his uncle Paul's partner Michael.

“Hi,” Harry answered, sinking down on a couch.“Harry, champ. How are you?”“I'm okay,” Harry said thoughtfully, wondering if it was true. “Yeah, I'm okay, I'm good. Did

Paul tell you I have news?”

“You're always news,” Michael said cheerily. “ _Harry Styles wears fancy-pancy shirt, Harry Styles falls over on stage, Harry Styles co-hosts breakfast radio show, Harry Styles walks down the street, Harry Styles breathes air._ We try to keep up to date, but there is quite a lot of it.”

“He didn't tell you _my_ news, though?” Harry was impressed. He knew he could trust Paul, and he'd told Paul not to tell anyone, but - he wouldn’t have really minded if Paul just told Michael.

Harry looked around him at the coffee shop, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to him. “I'm gay.”

When Harry had said to his uncle Paul, ' _I think I might maybe be gay,_ ' Paul had said things like, “Oh, Harry, I'm so proud of you,” and “That's a really big thing to admit, it must be really scary,” and “I'm really happy for you, life can only get easier once you know who you are.”

Michael's response was slightly different to his partner's: “Well, of course you are,” he said quite blankly.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, miming _thank-you_ to the barista as she placed Louis' coffee down in front of Harry. He didn't get up, though. He wanted to finish this conversation.

“Harry, pet, you asked me what 'bum stuff' you could do with a guy,” Michael reminded him. “You could tell then?” Harry asked.

“You weren't subtle,” Michael laughed. “Thank you for telling me, though! It's different to hear the actual words from you.” Then Harry did get the, “I'm proud of you.”

“You should have told me.”“That I knew?”“That I'm _gay,_ ” Harry laughed quietly. “I was... slow on the uptake, myself.”“Well, welcome to reality,” Michael laughed back. “Listen, um – I called for a reason.”

“All right,” Harry said, getting up to grab a sugar sachet. If Michael wanted to talk about something, Harry would have to get a new, hot coffee for Louis anyway. What Louis didn't know about Harry putting sugar - and vanilla creamer, why not - in his own coffee wouldn't hurt him.

“Your 'kissing buddy',” Michael started. “The one that I bought you condoms for. The one that I drove you to a hotel to see.”

“I haven't used the condoms yet,” Harry quickly said.“Yet?” Michael said, like it wasn't reassuring. “What was that guy's name, again? Oh, shoot. Shoot, shoot... _shit._

“I ask because some other people who work on your show are getting press too. Like one of the make up artists is apparently getting a beauty book deal. Have you been keeping an eye out for posts about the the people you're working with?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, she told me,” Harry said. “She might even get Gemma to model for it, she liked doing her makeup when we filmed at home.”

“I'm not talking about her,” Michael said. Harry took a nervous sip of coffee.

“Louis Tomlinson's head of wardrobe, and he's properly touring with you, right? I've seen some photos of you two together. There's been some curiously lovey-dovey photos of him and a woman too, but, well... Men like me, Harry, we've heard of Louis Tomlinson long before _Modern Missionary._ ”

“You have?” Harry asked curiously.

“He's gay,” Michael said, very matter-of-fact. “I've seen really quite a few photos of you spending time with him, both on-set and off. And now you've come out, at least to Paul and me. It's... very timely.”

Harry's palms were sweating so much he was scared he would drop hot coffee on his lap. He had no idea what to say, but his silence wasn't very clever either.

“Your 'kissing buddy' was a Louis, wasn't he?”

“Oh my Go - my _gosh_ , different Louis!” Harry quickly said back. He hated lying, but he didn't know how passable the truth was. So he kept lying. “I didn't even know Louis Tomlinson was gay. Used to be gay, I mean. His girlfriend is like, the real deal. She's really nice, we went to a museum the other day.”

“I don't care about the girlfriend either way,” Michael said.How could he not care about the girlfriend, when Louis' Twitter account had just the other day

sent out _'paris is beautiful this time of year, can't wait to bring my girl here'_?

Of course, the tweet _might_ have been posted at the exact same time as Louis was on all fours showing his bum to the laptop webcam, with two fingers up his ass, head turned over his shoulder to watch Harry, who was biting the finger of one hand and furiously jerking himself off with the other but –

Michael definitely didn't know _that._ “I care about _you_ , Harry.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “But you don't need to. I'm doing all right, you know? I don't really know what's going to happen with the – you know, the g-word thing. At least I know I've still got a couple months left of tour before I have to face the real world.”

“But _Louis_ , Harry,” Michael said reproachfully. “You didn't tell me he was _thirty-five_ when you asked me to drive you to his fucking hotel.”

Harry wanted to say _he's only thirty-two_ and _I didn't ask you to drive me there, you offered_ , but he bit his tongue, knowing that wasn't what mattered right now.

“Michael! It was a different Louis, I told you! His parents were paying for the hotel.” “What teenager's parents let them stay in a hotel?” Michael asked.“ _I'm_ staying in a hotel,” Harry pointed out.

“Doesn't count, you're on tour with a TV show,” Michael sounded amused, but then his voice went serious again. “Just tell me the truth, Harry, please. Whatever's going on, we can work it out. We don't even have to tell Paul if you don't want anyone in your family to know.

“Of course I'm telling you the truth.” Harry hated pulling out this card, but he had to: “I just told you I'm gay, Michael. You and Paul are the only people in the whole world who know the truth. I trust you. You think I'd lie to you?”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Michael said sincerely. “I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here.”

“Louis – _my_ Louis, was home alone for a month while his parents were overseas,” Harry lied wildly. “That's why we were able to – you know, be kissing buddies, with no parents around. But then, um, his – dishwasher went haywire and and poured out a whole lot of hot water all over his kitchen. They had to get people in to rip up the floor. So his parents put him in a hotel.”

Harry had no idea how dishwashers even worked.“Do you really think Louis Tomlinson is gay?” he asked curiously, hoping to push the conversation ahead. “I've _seen_ him kiss his girlfriend. They're crazy about each other.” “You don't think she might be a cover-up?” Michael said. “You see them together?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said. “Sometimes me and Louis hang out but it's always, _Oh I've got to bring Eleanor here, she'd love the soup_.”

“Well, there you go. Louis Tomlinson, with a girlfriend,” Michael mused. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

“Thanks for calling,” Harry said. “Sorry for the mix-up.”

“It's all right,” Michael replied. “Just – if some thirty-five year old was luring you into hotel rooms, I wouldn't be much better for driving you there myself, would I?”

“You didn't do anything wrong,” Harry said firmly. “And no one's luring me anywhere.” “Hence the unopened condoms.”“Hence,” Harry repeated, chewing his lip.

\-----

Louis had fallen asleep again, so he wasn't sure how long it had taken Harry to come back and rouse him, passing over a hot coffee.

Louis took a sip and sighed happily. “So much better. Now come here.” He patted the bed beside him. “Are you going to tell me what that sad face was about? Who were you sending messages to on the phone?”

“You jealous?” Harry sat next to Louis, lifting up Louis' arm and wrapping it around himself. “ _Non,_ ” Louis replied, although he wasn't sure if that was the truth. “You wish.”“I'm not talking to anyone in particular,” Harry said. “Just, like... everyone.”“Everyone?”

“It started a bit ago, but it's really blown up in the last week,” Harry explained sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers like they didn't feel right without his phone in them. “Not just my friends and family, but people I haven't seen in years. People I've only met once or twice before. Everyone's trying to contact me now that I'm a big TV star!” he joked, but his voice was hollow, like he knew it was the sad truth. After a pause, he added, “How am I supposed to know who my real friends are if everyone suddenly wants to be my friend?”

“Well,” Louis said, not really knowing where to head with his next sentence. He'd never really bothered with strong friendships, just made nice with people who were good fun, or better yet, good value to have close by in the industry.

“You know what, don't ask me. Ask yourself.”“Hm?” Harry looked up at Louis, green eyes wide and innocent.

Well, perhaps he looked just a _little_ less innocent than he used to.

“You know this!” Louis insisted. “Friends stuff. You've got a clever heart.”

Harry gave a pained smile. “You'd think if they were my real friends, I could tell them that I'm... you know.”

“Pregnant?” Louis supplied, dead serious. Harry shot Louis a reproachful look. “Oh, the other thing...” Louis said. “Yep.”

“Your magic powers,” Louis finished.

“ _Louis,_ ” Harry sighed, but Louis could tell he was weakening.

“Sorry,” Louis said, bowing his head sheepishly. “I shouldn't joke about you being half-horse.”

Harry unsuccessfully fought of a smile. Louis leant over to kiss his dimple and right after that, Harry turned his head in, kissing Louis properly.

Ten minutes later they were kissing passionately and Harry was jutting his cock against Louis' hip and Louis noted that maybe the last one wasn't so far from the truth; Harry was _hung_ like...

After Tucson, the show went to New Mexico. Harry was in the double-decker tour bus but Louis was made to get a separate flight with Eleanor, tolerable only because the paparazzi couldn’t follow them _all_ the way through the airport and when they lost them, Eleanor dragged Louis off to the airport bar.

Their plane touched down right as the sun was setting, absolutely incredible in the sky. Eleanor was awestruck, pulling out her phone for “A sunset couple's snap, c'mon, Jeremy will eat it up.”

Louis smiled for the photo, but with a tug at his heart he realised he really only wanted to share sunsets with Harry.

For the live show in New Mexico he dressed Harry in a camel-coloured shirt and a pale blue blazer. Harry told the crowd he'd never tried alcohol (except for communion) and maybe wouldn't ever. He was so convincing that even Louis believed him – until he remembered Harry drunkenly stumbling through Kito, or pouting the other night when Louis said Harry couldn't try his parent's wine yet.

“It's for a special occasion,” Louis had dictated.“Giants won last night,” Harry replied.Louis didn't even know what sport that was in. “Doesn't count, Curly.”

When Harry came backstage after the show and began to undress, Louis caught his attention and curtly shook his head; _leave it on_.

Back at yet another hotel, Louis dragged Harry across the room and threw him down on the bed. By now he'd lost track of whether it was technically his or Harry's hotel room, what did it matter? He yanked Harry's pants off but begged him to leave the shirt and blazer on.

“You look _so fucking good,_ ” he moaned as he mouthed wet kisses up Harry's inner thigh. “I'm fucking brilliant, that outfit is incredible, you look incredible.”

Harry had giggled and held Louis' head by his hair. “Good self-control then, for not just running out onto the stage and doing this right in front of the audience.”

Harry confidently lifted his knees right up to his chest and guided Louis' head down. Louis licked at Harry, teasing him until he was whimpering.

“Make me come,” Harry gasped. Louis' mouth found Harry's cock and then Harry's hands found Louis' fingers, holding him close. Louis didn't take his eyes off Harry's until Harry came in his mouth.

Louis couldn't tell if his eyelashes were just wet from watering at the pressure in his throat, or if it was that Harry was the most beautiful thing he'd _ever_ seen, and it made him cry.

And he didn't just get to see the boy, but he got to experience him, taste him. What had Louis ever done to be so lucky?

Harry insisted that the food in New Mexico was, “Like, the best thing I've ever tasted!” but it was too spicy for Louis' liking. He silently acknowledged that an upset stomach from too much chilli wasn't exactly conducive to a dream date with Harry. No restaurant here would be right for their big night, which was fine, it was probably too soon anyway.

In contrast, Eleanor was in her element. She shared plate after plate of chicharrones de cuero with the main makeup artist, nicked flautas off Harry's plate, and teased Louis for not being able to pronounce any Spanish-named dish.

Skipping past Texas on a flight to Mississippi, Harry got a spare blanket from the air hostess and handed it to Louis. He pulled his own polar-fleece blanket over himself, indicating for Louis to do the same.

Bemused, Louis covered his lap with the blanket.

Harry snuck his hand under it, gripping Louis' hand tight.

“Lou,” Harry said very quietly.

“Oui?”

Harry tilted his head up to whisper. “Um. Back when I visited my uncles, first time after I'd met you, I told them there was a Louis.”

“Okay,” Louis said, waiting for the rest of the story.“A Louis that I'd, you know. And now they know I'm – _you know_.”“Ah,” Louis said quietly, holding Harry's hand a bit tighter in fear. “Have they...” “Michael asked.” Harry sounded only half-reassuring. “I lied to him.”

“Sorry,” Louis whispered back, rubbing his thumb over Harry's. His chest felt heavy. It wasn't fair that Harry had to lie, not when he so strongly believed against it.

“I think he believed me, so... it's okay.”

Harry fell asleep soon after that, but Louis couldn't relax, darting his eyes around the cabin every five minutes and adjusting the blankets to make sure their hands were hidden.

Maybe Harry's uncles didn't pay very close attention to the show. Louis hoped so – they'd have a good reason not to.

Louis himself didn't love sitting through an hour's worth of subtle homophobia and misogyny every week, but he did it for Harry, because poor Harry had slowly stopped saying things like, “I did all right, didn't I?” or “That bit worked well!”

Harry just sort of sat there watching the final cut of each episode with an expression of mild discomfort on his face, leaning heavily against Louis.

It was worst of all that first night in Mississippi. Harry loaded the final cut of the episode on Louis' iPad to watch it before it aired. Twenty minutes in, Louis had gotten up and stood behind the couch, massaging Harry's shoulders to try to soothe him as he watched it.

Louis couldn't see Harry's face, but by the tail end of the episode, he could hear Harry sniffing.

When the episode finished, he wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and nuzzled his cheek.

“Hey. You want to go to bed?”

Harry nodded, but didn't get up. After a minute, he said, “I thought this was what I wanted, you know? I wish I'd just waited to go on a real mission.”

Louis had jumped over the back of the couch to plop down beside Harry. “You still can, right? You can have both.”

“I don't know if I even like doing this TV show,” Harry admitted. Panic crossed his face and he added, “I mean, of course I do. I'm grateful. It's just... sometimes it's not fun.”

“Mm,” Louis hummed, crossing his arms. “If only you'd stayed back in Texas, and were never on TV, so you never needed to be styled for TV, so you never met a weird old French fashion man.”

Harry crossed his arms too. “Wouldn't matter,” he said confidently. “Wouldn't matter if you didn't meet me?!” Louis cried out.

“Wouldn't matter if I didn't meet you for Modern Missionary,” Harry specified. “You can't fight fate. We would have met some other way.”

Louis shot Harry a look so sweet that it made his _own_ teeth ache.

Part of the Mississippi episode was filmed at Keesler Air Force base, the whole crew getting a guided tour before the cameras started rolling.

“I don't understand what this has to do with Christianity,” Louis said when they were showed inside a large aircraft hanger.

“That's the whole point, Louis,” Harry said, sounding embarrassed that Louis didn't get it. “God's everywhere. The opportunity to be a missionary is anywhere.”

Louis assessed the impressive fighter plane in front of him. He still didn't understand.

Louis didn't think a state with such a silly name was a great place to have a proper first date. While he was adjusting Harry's sleeves before they started filming, he quietly told Harry so.

Harry nodded solemnly for a second before he said, “I guess we'll give it a miss... issippi.” Louis didn't even laugh at that one, just flared his nostrils and turned his head away.

“That's a really good one,” Harry said, very pleased with himself. “I'm going to work that into the show.”

“I think you should give the puns a miss-issippi,” Louis fired back. “Get stuffed.” Harry flicked Louis' arm. “Find your own jokes.”

Despite Jeremy being roomed next door to Louis in Ocean Springs, Harry snuck into Louis' suite when they got back from filming.

“We can't do anything,” Louis insisted. “I'm sorry, it's way too risky with Jeremy next door.”

They simply curled up on the couch, each leaning back on an armrest with their legs in a comfortable tangle in the middle. Louis caught up on news online while Harry buried his nose in the book on evolution that he'd gotten at the museum. He read quietly for almost two hours until, in a tone of amazement, he said, “I can't deal with this.”

He got up off his end of the couch, grabbed his phone and then settled himself right in Louis' lap.

Louis was a bit taken aback, but then wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and rested the side of his face on Harry's shoulderblade, continuing to read the news.

\-----

“Mom.”

Harry felt Louis bristle behind his back when he realised who Harry was calling. Very quickly though, his arm tightened around Harry's waist, and he pressed a silent kiss to his back.

“Hey, sweetheart!” his mother said cheerily. “You haven't called in a few days, you starting to forget all about your mother? Thought this wouldn't happen until you went off to college.”

Harry couldn't stand her jovial teasing.

“I need to talk to you.” Harry made sure to keep his voice quiet, lest Jeremy overheard him in the wrong room. “Why did you lie to me about evolution?”

“What?” his mother asked. “No one lied to you.”“I read a book, Mom!” Harry said. “It's true, and you kept it from me!” “Evolution's not true.”

“It doesn't matter if you don't believe it,” Harry calmly said. “You should have still told me about it properly, or put me in a school that would tell me about it, so I could...” Harry cut himself off, scared to say something so radical - but then he took a deep breath and boldly finished, “so I could make up my mind for myself.”

“Why would we want you to learn lies?”

“Lies?” Harry repeated. She was completely hypocritical. “You told me evolution was a stupid theory! That's a lie, so you lied to me. It's not just a stupid theory, it makes sense!”

“How can you be so disrespectful?” His mother sounded so disappointed in him. “Where's your faith? You really believe humans were just some accident that came from monkeys? _That_ doesn't make sense. How are monkeys still around, if they evolved?”

“Not the same monkeys, mom,” Harry started. Maybe his mom really didn't know either. “Both monkeys and humans-”

“Harry, stop this nonsense,” his mother interrupted him. “I can't believe how you're acting.” “How I'm acting? I went to a museum and read one book, it's not like I'm doing drugs.” “Maybe not that, but Gemma's been telling me other things,” his mother warned.“What things?” Harry asked quickly. “She doesn't know anything, she's not here.”

“She said she tried to talk to you about spending so much time with that fag of a man, and you swore at her.”

“Don't say that word!” Harry cried out angrily.Louis pulled Harry's shoulders to the side a bit, and Harry understood; _keep it down._

“You know what, calling you was a mistake.” Harry sighed. “I actually know this isn't the only thing you've kept from me.”

“What have I ever kept from you? What do you mean by that?”

 _I know your brother's gay,_ Harry didn't say. “It doesn't matter what I mean by that, okay? Can you please just stop treating me like a child? I've been a teenager for three years! I live in the real world!”

“I can't believe how rude you're being,” his mother said. “I've half a mind to call Jeremy and tell him to ground you.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Harry said scathingly. “Jeremy's not my babysitter, he's my director. This is my job. I'm at _work_. I take care of myself."

“Would you like to talk to your father for a bit?” his mom tried.

“No,” Harry sighed. “I just want to go, okay. I'll talk to you both another day.”

“I love you, Harry. I'm just worried about you.”

“I'm fine!” Harry insisted. “I can read one science book and have one gay friend without the world collapsing around me.”

“You've got to think about your public image,” his mother insisted. “And not just that. What happens when your life ends? How are you going to explain to God that you were happy to be seen standing with a fag?”

“If you say that word one more time, I'm never talking to you again. _Ever,_ ” Harry fumed.

“Why are you defending him?”

“1 Peter, chapter four, verse eight?” Harry spat out. His mother was silent, and Harry took a sick pleasure in it. “You don't even know it, do you? _Above all, love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins_.”

“So you agree that homosexuality is a sin?” His mother fired back.

Harry clenched his jaw. He'd already pushed the conversation, pushed it _really_ far. He'd never spoken to anyone in his family so harshly before.

But he couldn't say _that_ , especially not as he sat right on Louis' lap. He's said it a thousand times already, before he knew the truth – about gay people, and about himself. He did know the truth now, and he didn't want to go back.

“ _He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone._ ” Harry avoided the question. “I'm going now, okay,” he quickly added.

“I love you, sweetie.”“I love you too,” Harry said begrudgingly, then hung up the phone.

\-----

“You all right, _mon petit_?” Louis asked gently. “That sounded like a difficult conversation.” He didn't know what else to say, and it made him feel useless.

Harry raised his hands helplessly. “I think that's the least difficult of the conversations I've got to have with my parents, you know?”

“Ah,” Louis said.“Because I'm still gay, you know,” Harry said, like it was an apology.

Louis tried to be cool, but hearing Harry say it made him smile so big he could feel his nose crinkling up. At least his face was still hidden behind Harry's back.

“I'm still gay too, you know,” Louis said.“ _You've mentioned,_ ” Harry said in a French accent, copying what Louis used to say when Harry

said ' _I'm not gay_ '.“Here, look at this,” Louis said, trying to get Harry's mind off his mother. He held his iPad in front of Harry, a French news page on it. “You see this bridge? Pont des Arts, it's in Paris.” “Did you go there the other week?”

“Oui,” Louis said. “It's right by the Louvre, I walked across it. But see this article? Well of course you don't, it's in French - it says just last Sunday they had to evacuate it, because part of it collapsed.”

“Near-death experience, huh? God's watching over you,” Harry said pointedly.

“Perhaps,” Louis said, shrugging Harry's suggestion off. “You see the... what do you call it? All along the side there?”

“Padlocks?” Harry supplied.

“Padlocks, that's the one. So what you do is, you bring your lover to the bridge, and you both secure the padlock on it, then you throw the key into the water so it can't be unlocked again. Some people write their initials on it, or even get their padlock engraved. It represents, like... the permanence of a committed love. And it's totally jam-packed, locks locked onto locks locked onto locks...”

“Quite the tongue-twister,” Harry laughed. “So, what? It collapsed?”

“ _Oui!_ ” Louis said. “The locks became too heavy for the bridge. It's amazing, isn't it? So many people were in love. Weighed down the bridge so much that part of it actually collapsed.”

“Is this an analogy?” Harry asked, swivelling around in Louis' lap to face at him. “Because it's a pretty shitty – I mean, dodgy one. I've told you before, I don't care if I ' _deserve someone my own age_ '.” Harry was getting far too good at mimicking Louis' accent. “I don't care about lying. I'd have to hide away and lie about being with _any_ guy anyway, not just with you. I want to hide away with you. You're not, like... _weighing me down from all the love,_ ” he finished, wiggling his fingers in the air to mock the last sentence.

“Are you saying you love me?” Louis asked slowly. Harry opened his mouth as if to talk, but nothing came out.

“Put it this way,” Louis said, clicking off the iPad screen and putting it aside. “Would you fix a padlock onto a bridge with me?”

“Yes,” Harry said decisively. “And I'd throw away the key.”Louis shut his eyes, self-conscious from the way Harry made something in his chest glow. “ _Cela donne matière à réfléchir,_ ” he mused.

“Bless you,” Harry replied instantly.

Without looking up, Louis whacked Harry on the knee. “I said, that's food for thought.”

“Should we do it?” Harry prompted Louis, gently poking his eyelids to get him to open his eyes again.

“Do what?”“A padlock!” Harry insisted, like it should have been obvious to Louis.

Louis gave Harry a delighted kiss right on the lips. “Maybe we could. Where would we even buy a lock?”

“Walmart?” Harry guessed. “Yeah, they'll have one.” He got out of Louis' lap, and looked at Louis. “Get your shoes on then, let's go.”

“What - now?” Louis questioned.“It's only 8!” Harry protested.“I don't mean the time,” Louis said. “I mean. Are you sure you want to do a lock? Today?” Harry gave an exaggerated shrug. “You'll just have to wait and see if I go through with it.”

\-----

“Oh my God,” Louis said when they entered Walmart.

Harry flinched, but didn't tell Louis off.

“This is a real place,” Louis finished in amazement.

“Of course it's real,” Harry said, trying to orient himself to what section would have a padlock.

“They have _clothes,_ see!?” Louis tugged at Harry's sleeve, leaning his whole body towards that section instead.

“Did you want to have a look?” Harry offered, feeling a bit like he was trying to keep an excited puppy away from a butcher's bone.

“Yes, I do want to look!” Louis took off.

Harry had to take fast strides to keep up with him - he was glad Louis was too distracted to notice Harry tripping over his own feet.

“ _Two dollars!_ ” Louis cried, waving a plain t-shirt in Harry's face. “Can you believe it?!”“We don't need t-shirts,” Harry said, stealing it out of Louis' hand and folding it, returning it to the pile. “We need vandal outfits.”“Vandal outfits?” Louis was clearly amused.

“I'm sure it's vandalism to put a padlock somewhere,” Harry admitted. “So we need, like... oversize black sweaters with big hoods. And big dark sunglasses.”

“Beanies!” Louis suggested happily. “Criminals wear plain black beanies.”

“And we need to get new shoes, to wear once and then throw away,” Harry said. “So when the police make casts of our footprints, they can't trace it back to any of our real pairs.”

“You're an evil mastermind, 'Arry Styles.”

Over an hour later, Louis had tried on all sorts of cheap clothes and asked Harry very seriously, “If I buy a Spiderman t-shirt and wear it just around you, you won't tell anyone, will you?”

There were three different designs, and Harry had just rolled his eyes and picked up one of each, putting them in the basket along with their petty crime costumes and a padlock. There weren't any big ones with keys, just number combinations, but Louis reasoned they could just close their eyes when they set the numbers, so neither of them would know what it was.

It didn't come to much, so Harry paid for it.“Thank you for my t-shirts,” Louis hummed happily.“The stupid t-shirt club lives on,” Harry noted.“Spiderman isn't stupid,” Louis informed him. “He's a hero.” “Jesus is a hero,” Harry retorted.“Can Jesus shoot spiderwebs out of his wrists?”“Did Spiderman die for your sins?”

They went into the bathrooms to get changed, and for a second Harry dared to think they might get to do something a little bit bad in there – but the bathrooms smelled like someone had _eaten_ something bad for lunch and taken it out on the Walmart toilet, so they changed in a hurry.

“How about down by the ocean?” Louis suggested, looking absolutely absurd in a 2XL black sweater that went down to his knees, women's sunglasses, and a black beanie. “At the end of the pier?”

It was windy and not exactly warm, but Louis threw an arm around Harry as they walked along. It was only early evening with plenty of people around and Harry was pretty sure their stupid get-up drew more attention than it did hide them, but the people they walked past just gave them odd smiles and then looked away.

Harry looked over at Louis through his sunglasses. If Louis had looked back he might have kissed him – but Louis didn't. He just kept his eyes forward, but he pulled Harry in a bit closer under his arm. Harry guessed Louis knew what he had been about to do.

It wasn't the prettiest beach Harry had ever seen, but there were birds flying around and the sun was beginning to set and the air smelt fresh and salty. One side of the pier had a thin railing, perfect for the lock.

When they got to the end of the pier, Louis took his sunglasses off and Harry did the same. Louis surveyed his glasses for a minute, frowned, and dropped them right into the ocean.

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry scolded him, amazed. He tucked his own sunglasses safely into his pocket. “That's littering.”

“They're too ugly to ever wear again. It's not littering, some crab will make a nice house from them.”

“But all his crab friends will see that his house is made of ugly sunglasses,” Harry pointed out. “They'll never come to visit him.”

“I'll visit him.” Louis licked his lips. “Mm-mm, I love crab.”

Louis held Harry's hand as he read the instructions on the back of the lock, and then and ripped open the cardboard packaging with his teeth.

“Here, _mon petit_.” Louis held the lock out. “Close your eyes and turn the numbers, then pull the lock bit open. Don't peek, okay. You can't know the code.”

“You close your eyes too,” Harry instructed.

It must have looked odd, a fit, tanned man and a slightly shorter teen in oversize black sweaters and beanies, both with their eyes shut as they fiddled with a padlock on the end of a pier.

Harry didn't care who saw them. Maybe he should have, but he didn't.

“Done.” Harry opened his eyes as he pulled the lock open. Louis opened his too, quickly twisting the numbers again so whatever combination Harry had selected was gone forever.

Louis hooked the padlock over the railing, but he didn't lock it shut.

“You didn't do this with someone else, did you?” Harry asked suddenly. “One of the locks that made the bridge collapse wasn't yours, was it?”

“Definitely not,” Louis said, resting his hands on Harry's shoulders. “You're the only one I'd vandalise with.”

Harry nodded, really wanting to believe it. But Louis probably had boyfriends before Harry was even _born_.

“Hey, 'Arry, look at me. I'm wearing sneakers that cost less than my dinner. You think anyone from Paris would even recognise me like this?”

“No,” Harry admitted.“You think I'd wear this for anyone else? _T'es mon garçon, oui?_ ” “ _Oui._ ” Harry smiled. “I am.”

“ _Merde_ , 'Arry, you're so fucking beautiful.” Louis glanced around behind Harry. They weren't even alone on the pier, but he huffed, “ _Fuck_ it,” and suddenly kissed Harry hard on the mouth. Louis pulled back just as quick, but Harry knew it was simply because he had to.

Harry's hand touched his own lips, as if he could keep Louis' kiss there for longer. Louis' hand touched the lock.

“It's better with a combination lock,” Harry said, leaning his shoulder into Louis. “If we threw the key into the water you might come back here in three years, go on a little dive to fish it out and unlock the lock.”

“I wouldn't,” Louis said, brushing his fingers over Harry's wrist. “There's a very good chance we won't start a trend here, you know,” he added.

“You mean the clothes?” Harry asked. He actually didn't mind the black beanie.

“ _Non_ , the lock,” Louis replied. “This will probably be the only lock on the pier, so it'll never collapse. The lock will be here for a long time.”

“A long time.” Harry shyly smiled to himself. “You'd know about long times, Louis,” he added. “Hm?”“You've been alive for one,” Harry added, fighting back laugher. “A long time.”

“'Arry!” Louis scolded, playfully grabbing Harry's shoulders and pretending to push him off the rail-free side of the pier before quickly yanking him back to safety. “Don't tease me,” he growled right in Harry's ear. “Or next time I'll push you right in. You'll be swimming with the fishes.”

Harry smiled at Louis for a moment, before stepping back over to the railing to where the lock was hanging. He clicked the padlock shut, giving it a quick yank to check it was definitely stuck there.

_A long time._

\-----

A few days later they flew to Louisiana. That night Harry had dinner with the MM team, but Louis stayed in. He knew Eleanor was at the team dinner too, and Louis wasn't quite sure what was happening there – they hadn't done any appearances together since Tucson airport. Jeremy seemed to have quietly acknowledged that the bearding hadn't stamped out public knowledge of Louis' sexuality like planned, but he still hadn't let Eleanor go.

Louis pondered bringing it up with Jeremy, pushing him to arrange more stunts with Eleanor to keep Harry and his secret safe; but in the end he decided he'd just let Jeremy drag it out indecisively.

He didn't want to talk to Jeremy about Eleanor, or anyone else. Louis wanted to seem like he had as little interest in romance, real or not, as possible.

Which wasn't fair at all. Harry deserved someone who would shout his name from rooftops.

Still, Eleanor was a nice girl. If Jeremy was happy to bleed money into her salary, paying her to to just trail the film crew around sometimes, and do her own thing for the rest of the time – well, that wasn't a bad deal for Eleanor. It probably wasn't the shortcut to fame she was hoping for either, but at least she wasn't waiting tables.

Around 9.30 there was a knock on Louis' door and Harry was hissing, “Let me in, quick, the others are coming up now too.”

They channel-surfed for a bit before retiring to bed. Louis had a headache and couldn't get it up, but lovingly pulled Harry over to straddle his lap and quickly jerked him off until he came all over Louis' sweater, desperately whimpering into his neck.

Sweet little Harry apologetically pulled the sweater off Louis, found the stain soaker in Louis' bag and tiptoed off to the bathroom. Louis heard running water as Harry cleaned the top, and a while later Harry was back with a bottle of water and some Aspirin for Louis.

\-----

They were filming the next live show right in New Orleans. Harry had smiled when he overheard one of the venue staff speaking.

“Hey Louis, hear that?” he asked happily. “French!”

“It's not French,” Louis kindly explained. “It's Creole French.”

“Same thing.” Harry shrugged.

Louis shot Harry such a look that he quickly amended; “No, it's not! It's a completely different language. I can tell the difference!”

Harry was getting more used to how he felt completely fake on stage. Although he didn't enjoy feeling like he was lying to so many people, sometimes it was nice to have an escape. For a few hours he got to be the perfect Harry that so many people wanted him to be, the perfect Harry who wouldn't disappoint his church or be abandoned by his parents.

Back in the dressing room, Harry seemed to naturally gravitate to where Louis was sitting on a couch, and went to sit down in his lap. Before he landed, Louis threw his hands out and gave Harry a hard shove in the lower back.

Harry didn't even turn around to look at Louis, he couldn't; he was horrified. He just followed the push forward and walked over to the corner of the room, silently praying for his face to stop blushing as he packed up his things. He couldn't make eye contact with Louis, not even when Louis said goodbye to the rest of the team and left the venue.

Harry hadn't meant to do it, not at all. He was so stupid and careless, it had just happened, right in front of everyone – he babbled all this to Louis in the entrance of Louis' hotel room as Louis locked the door behind him.

Harry started wringing his hands and if they weren't busy with that, he probably would have hit himself, he was _such_ an _idiot._

“You're not an idiot.” Louis wrapped his arms around Harry and dragged him into the room, ripping the sheets off the bed. “Come on, make me a blanket fort.”

“Make you one?” Harry repeated like Louis' request was outrageous.“You always know how to make them well,” Louis coaxed. “Maybe you should be an architect.” Harry surveyed the scene in front of him. There wasn't much to work with, but fifteen minutes later he'd constructed a modest fort and instructed Louis not to tug down the overhead sheet, or it'd send the hotel's TV screen crashing down too.

Louis carefully followed Harry into the fort, sitting down in front of him. “ _Très bien, mon garçon,_ ” he commented as he looked at the white sheets surrounding them.

Harry sometimes wondered if Louis repeated the same phrases over and over for Harry's benefit. He sighed. “Louis, how am I ever going to learn French?”

“Start with something easy,” Louis suggested. “Like?” Harry pushed.“Like... _Je suis._ I am.”“How do you say 'your'?” Harry asked.

“You are, or like, belonging to you?” Louis clarified. “Belonging to you. Belonging to _you,_ ” Harry added in emphasis.

“If you were being very polite, your is _votre._ But for me... probably _ton. Ta_ for the feminine, but that's a lesson for another day.”

“ _Ton_ ,” Harry tried.“Very good,” Louis smiled.Harry practiced the full sentence in his head before saying it out loud.“ _Je suis ton petit-ami._ ”Louis quickly ducked his head down to rest his on Harry's collarbone, hiding his face. “ _Oui?_ ” Harry said, peering down at the back of Louis' head.“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asked.

“Nope!” Harry said cheerily, because he was pretty sure he'd finally cornered Louis. “Tried to Google it, but I don't know how to spell it. Tried to ask you, but apparently you had the world's most urgent laid-back at-home family meal to get to, as you may recall.”

Harry prodded Louis in the side of his waist, and Louis giggled, but he didn't lift his head up.

“You don't have to worry about it,” Louis said, muffling his words against Harry's chest. “It's just something silly I said by accident once, and then... I kept saying it.”

“You're weird,” Harry said.“I am not!” Louis pulled his head back up. “ _You're_ weird.”“Just tell me what it is, or I'll figure it out myself.”“Will you?” Louis asked smugly. “You don't know how to spell it, remember?”

“At least I don't keep secrets,” Harry said pointedly.

That one seemed to get to Louis, as his face softened and he reached for Harry's hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

“Okay, no secrets,” Louis started. “Look, I don't mean anything by it, okay. It doesn't have to mean anything, it's just... a nickname. _P E T I T, A M I._ It's like boyfriend.”

Wow.

“'Like'?” Harry questioned.

“Is,” Louis admitted. “Is boyfriend.”

That was – wow. Boyfriend.

_Wow._

“Doesn't _have_ to mean anything?” Harry echoed Louis' words.

“Are you going to repeat everything I said?” Louis asked, smiling.

“Are you going to properly ask me if I'll be your boyfriend, or are you just going to assume it?” Harry fired back. He felt really nervous but Louis _looked_ really nervous. At least they matched.

“Now?” Louis asked. He slid his thumb around to the inside of Harry's wrist. That was cheating, if he could feel Harry's heartbeat pounding.

“No,” Harry decided after a minute, pulling his hand back just far enough to hold Louis' hand. “You're planning a date, aren't you?”

“Sort of.” Louis sighed heavily. “It's hard when we're only in each town for a few nights, you know? I don't know any of these cities. But I'll figure it out,” he added earnestly. “I'll figure out something really good.”

“Good,” Harry agreed. “You can ask me when you figure it out. And you can't call me – _that_ – until then.”

Harry was glad he had an excuse to put it off, but he was also pretty sure that all the waiting in the world wouldn't make it any less terrifying and he sort of wanted to whine at Louis to _just make me yours now_.

Harry hated when his head got filled with panic. It seemed like every tiny step he made with this gay thing felt like taking on an enormous mountain, and it was really, really hard. Just the idea that some day in the near future Louis would be asking him out on a date - as his _petit-ami_ – that made the thoughts swirl around Harry's brain even faster.

Kissing Louis made his head shut up, and it wasn't because it was kissing, it was because it was Louis.

Harry leant forward, still holding hands, and pressed his lips to Louis'. Louis' lips were always soft and strong, the neatly trimmed scruff on his upper lip making Harry's own skin tingle. He tasted

good and he smelled good and Harry just got blissfuly lost in it.Louis' free hand found the back of Harry's head and then Harry could taste Louis' tongue and he just wanted more, more more _more_.

Harry took his hand back from Louis' and started fumbling at Louis' buttons, all of them, getting his shirt off and undoing his pants. Louis pulled back and it was like he didn't have to ask, ' _Is this okay?'_ five million times any more, he just looked straight at Harry for confirmation as he pulled his pants right off.

Harry knew he could say, _'no, stop.'_ \- but he didn't want to. Not in the slightest

Harry took his own clothes off and pulled Louis right on top of him, laying back against the floor. Louis tugged Harry's underwear down so it was sitting just under his balls, exposing him, and Louis did the same to himself and then grounded his hands either side of Harry's shoulders and began to slowly thrust against him, two hard cocks rubbing together.

Harry bit his lower lip, trying to concentrate. Louis was so _hot_ though, he was so good looking and he had such a great body, and when Louis let out soft grunts it made Harry's stomach tremble.

Harry meant to say, 'Slow down,' but despite himself he just stayed quiet. His hands found Louis' bum – Louis had _such an incredible bum,_ it was unreal _-_ Harry dug his fingers in and squeezed, pulling Louis closer, faster.

Harry's shirt rode up to under his armpits but he couldn't let go of Louis for even one second to take it off, he just kept gripping at Louis like his life depended on it, pulling him in tight.

Harry then opened his mouth to say a panicked, 'I'm sorry!' but the words got trapped behind a desperate shout as Harry came, feeling like he was bursting with hot light, breathing heavy under the sheen of sweat over his body as his cock jolted and pulsed, spilling out over his stomach.

Instead of apologising, Harry urged Louis, “Please, keep going.”

He shut his eyes, feeling like he was burning up in embarrassment.

Except Louis had stopped moving. “It's okay, _mon petit._ ”

Harry opened his eyes. Louis was kindly smiling down at him.

“No, _please._ ” Harry pulled at Louis' bum desperately, squeezing him in close. “Please keep going, I want to make you come, like this, okay, like this. Come _on_ , Louis."

Louis started thrusting again slowly, cautiously. Harry's whole body twitched, shivering from how he was very sensitive now. Louis was pushing right against Harry's cock as Harry slowly became soft again. Harry grit his teeth, trying to keep himself from whimpering – it didn't hurt, exactly, but it felt very strong, like quite a _lot_ to be feeling.

“Come on, please,” Harry begged. He couldn't quite pinpoint his emotions, he was embarrassed from coming so quickly, but Louis didn't make him feel ashamed. Harry didn't know why his eyes were prickling hot and wet. Harry just wanted to make Louis feel good, too. He didn't want to be the reason their kissing sessions were cut short so many times.

“ _Please,_ ” he gasped again, and thankfully Louis gave in, beginning to thrust harder again. He pushed his hips up higher this time so the mess from Harry's come spread, making it slick and wet. Harry felt like his belly was sweating and maybe it did hurt his dick a little bit, he was probably gripping onto Louis' bum too hard and he couldn't _not_ whimper pathetically.

“Are you okay?” Louis asked breathlessly, one hand pushing Harry's hair off his face.

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “Don't stop.”

“You're so good for me,” Louis murmured appreciatively. “ _Mon bon, bon garçon_.”

With great difficulty, Harry remembered the brief French lesson he'd just had. “Je suis ton bon garçon?”

“Oui,” Louis said loudly. Harry couldn't tell if it was _yes, that's the right way to say it_ or _yes, this feels very good_ , but it didn't matter.

Louis moved his head down to kiss Harry, just pressing still lips hard against Harry's as he pushed his hips down harder.

Harry kept his hands on Louis' bum, feeling Louis' muscles flex beneath the skin. His hand twitched, almost involuntarily.

Louis didn't miss it. “Do you want to hit me?” he asked quickly.

Harry nodded guiltily, the back of his head rubbing against the floor.

“Then _hit me_ ,” Louis breathed.

Harry picked up his hand and whacked Louis' ass. Louis gave a high cry and started pushing his hips faster against Harry's.

Suddenly Louis was the one begging. “ _'Arder,_ ” he pleaded in his French accent.Harry's hips were still twitching from Louis' thrusts, because it definitely wasn't comfortable, so much pressure on his dick so soon after he'd come, but at least he had a distraction now.

He let his hand crash down twice as hard this time, a loud slap echoing across the room.

Harry then let his hand rest gently, giving Louis' skin a soothing rub for a moment, until Louis asked him to do it, “Again, _mon petit_ , _s'il te plait_ , again.”

Harry spanked Louis three times in a row, his hand tingling. Louis' cry sounded like it was ripped right out of his throat and Harry was making a lot of noise too. He focussed on the tingling in the palm of his hand, trying to feel anything but his own dick right now, because part of him wanted to push Louis right off, he could barely tolerate the feeling, but it was worth it, it was all so worth it.

When Louis spoke again his voice sounded low and far-off. He only managed one word: “Just...” “Keep going?” Harry asked, and all Louis could do was nod, blinking slowly as his eyes watered.

Harry kept hitting Louis' ass. Due to the way Louis was thrusting, Harry couldn't keep a consistent spot. He was just hitting all over Louis' bum cheek.

Louis lasted so long and it was incredible, but Harry's arm got tired and he had to switch.

Without warning he spanked the other side of Louis' ass and that seemed to shock Louis' orgasm out of him, his whole body curling in as he pressed his forehead against Harry's, his stomach jerking against Harry's as he came, adding to the mess on their bellies.

Harry expected it to to be over then, but Louis moaned weakly, “Don't stop _._ 'Arry, please.”

Harry twisted his body out from under Louis' and Louis slumped down on the floor. He rocked up on his knees so his ass was hovering up in the air, his cock hanging in the space between him and the carpet.

Harry scrambled to sit up, kneeling beside Louis' ass. His head was turned to the side and Harry could feel Louis' eyes on him, but he couldn't look away from Louis' bum. His skin looked so nice and pink.

Harry pressed a kiss to it, feeling it burn hot under his lips.

Louis then whined, pushing his hips up higher and Harry quickly hit him. It wasn't even a very hard one, but Louis dropped his hips down again like he was obedient to Harry's slaps.

“Oh my God,” Louis whispered, barely audible between the cracks Harry was sounding out into the air. Harry hit Louis again, eyes transfixed by the way his flushed-pink skin rippled for a brief moment.

Louis' upper body writhed and he turned his head in so his forehead was pressed against the carpet.

“Hey,” Harry said gently, tapping Louis on the head with his other hand. “Lift up.” Louis just _did it_ straight away.

Harry slid his hand under Louis' forehead, palm-up to cradle his face, and then slapped Louis hard on the ass again.

Louis' head was pushing hard into Harry's fingers and the carpet hurt the back of Harry's hand, but better his hand than Louis' face.

Louis was just something completely different like this, like he wanted to melt right down into the floor until he disappeared, but Harry's hand was keeping his head above-ground.

Harry didn't think he'd ever understand it, because only hours before he'd seen _Louis_ slap someone; a makeup artist had precariously balanced her hot Starbucks on his dressing rack. It had dripped down into an open shoebox, ruining a pair of women's shoes that the guest speaker, a young sunday school teacher from Louisiana, was supposed to wear.

The makeup artist opened her mouth to apologise but Louis had held up a finger to silence her, pointed at her wrist and beckoned. She submissively held up her hand and Louis gave her a quick, sharp slap on the back of it, saying, “Next time, make a mess of your own workstation.” With a lighting-fast wave of Louis' hand, the makeup artist had scampered off.

Harry had watched the whole thing play out, amazed how a grown woman just _volunteered up her hand_ to be disciplined like she was a child. Louis just seemed to command power over anyone, even adults. Maybe that's why Jeremy had given him a fake girlfriend instead of just firing him.

 _Hopefully_ that was how Louis could pull off a proper date without them getting caught.

It didn't fit, that the sharp-tongued, quick-witted and authoritative Louis was also _this_ Louis, the one who was hiding his face in the floor and could barely say a word. It didn't fit at all, but somehow it felt completely right.

Louis didn't demand power over Harry. He _surrendered_ it.

Harry couldn’t quite believe _he_ was sitting there either – no, he couldn't believe it at all. He was stark naked with come drying on his stomach and his sore cock getting hard again from the sight of a thirty-two year old man buckled over in front of him.

Harry just wanted to hit Louis.

He gave Louis a hard whack to punctuate every thought in his head: I want you to be my _boyfriend_ , I want to be _your_ boyfriend, I want you to have _sex_ with me up my _bum_ and I want you to take me on a _date_ and I want this _stupid tv show_ to be _over_ so we can _run away -_

“That's enough!” Louis gasped, his voice sounding hoarse, like he might cry. “No more.”

Harry quickly grabbed Louis' shoulder further away from him, pulling Louis to lie on his side. Harry checked his face first – Louis just sort of looked blank – and then fitted himself in behind Louis' back, Louis' burning ass pressed hot against Harry's bare thighs.

From where his hand had been under Louis' head, he moved his arm forward, so Louis could lean on it like a pillow.

Louis didn't say anything and Harry was worried for a second. Maybe he'd done it too hard, maybe he shouldn't have kept going after Louis came – oh God, maybe Louis didn't even _like_ being spanked. What if he hated it, and Louis just let Harry do it because he was so nice?

But then Louis' hand found Harry's free one and gripped it tight, pulling around himself in an embrace. He planted a damp kiss on the back of Harry's hand and whispered, “Merci, merci, _merci_.”

Louis seemed to want to sleep, just like he had after Harry had hit him on the couch in Las Vegas. Harry wasn't very comfortable on the floor, but he didn't want Louis to have to wait around while he remade the bed - so Harry lay still, wrapped his whole body around Louis.

When Louis did speak properly, Harry could feel Louis' warm breath on his fingers.

“I'm going to plan a good date for us, 'Arry. A really good one. I'm going to buy you very, very beautiful clothes and take you somewhere nice. Somewhere I can kiss you. I'm going to buy you nice wine that you're too young to appreciate, I'm going to rent a beautiful room in a different hotel to the rest of the crew, I'm going to kiss every inch of your skin until you fall asleep.”

Louis sounded practically feverish, frantically making promises like he owed Harry something. Like he hadn't just given Harry so, so much.

“Shh,” Harry said gently, kissing the back of Louis' neck. “I know. Go to sleep now. I'm here.”

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

From New Orleans, they went to Nashville, Tennessee. When the plane touched down Harry giggled, telling Louis, “You're the only ten _I_ see.”

Louis rolled his eyes and told Harry he couldn't believe they'd given someone with such a terrible sense of humour their own TV show - and anyway, he was an eleven.

From arrival at the airport, they went straight to film a live show. One of the main focuses of this episode was the importance of choosing friends who shared your faith.

Harry kept thinking about how nice it had been to go to the museum with Eleanor – who wasn't a Christian - and hear about her view on science, on life... on everything, really. She had a different perspective to what anyone else had ever shared with Harry and it was very refreshing.

Next up, Harry introduced a Christian country music band to the crowd. While they were playing, he was sat by himself off-stage, silently praying. Apologising to God for being such a stupid hypocrite.

Harry didn't even bother putting his bags in his assigned hotel room in Tennessee. He just looped the floor once to make sure no one was around, and then knocked on the door of Louis' room.

Louis had flung open the door and beamed at Harry like they'd been apart for several weeks, not just forty minutes. He relieved Harry of his bags, stacking them one on top of the other where his own were already sitting by the door, forming a waist-high pile. He then pulled Harry inside the room.

Louis pushed Harry back to sit down on the bags and guided him to spread his legs so he could fit himself in between them. Harry sighed happily and and tilted his hips up as Louis' hands ran firmly from his knees all the way up to the top of his thighs.

“ _Mon petit,_ ” Louis said happily as he kissed Harry's neck, sucking the skin not-long enough to leave a bruise. “You were so good today, you know.”

 

Harry pushed at the back of Louis' head, wanting him to leave a proper mark. “I don't want to talk about the show right now.” _Or ever._

“Can we talk about _you_ then?” Louis mused, lips lightly tracing over Harry's adam's apple as he switched to the other side of his neck, nibbling lightly with his teeth.

“Don't talk. Give me a love bite, please,” Harry begged.

It was a right of passage as a teenager, hiding lots of hickeys. Harry wanted one. He wanted to know what he had with Louis was always real, not just when they were behind closed doors.

Louis ignored Harry's demand. “Can we talk about how fucking good you look? With your shiny hair and your pretty curls?”

Harry blushed at the compliment, but allowed himself a grin.

“ _See?_ Yes! You're gorgeous!” Louis cried in delight. He kissed Harry's dimple and both corners of his mouth. Then his fingers tightened over Harry's thighs.

Louis was dressed all in black: tight black pants, a soft black top, and a silky black blazer. His hair was still very neat from how he'd styled it up for work and Harry really liked that - seeing how proper Louis had presented himself for their coworkers, knowing that Louis would let Harry mess up that quiff in a heartbeat.

Louis' skin was so perfect, too, from his exposed ankles to his smooth cheeks and forehead.

Harry didn't think his own skin was as nice. He didn't really mind having pimples, he didn't get too many and it was especially not-bad when they were covered up in makeup for the show, but he wasn't perfect like Louis.

“ _You_ look good,” Harry muttered in dismissal. He tried to kiss Louis, but Louis ducked his head out of reach. Instead, Louis kissed and licked Harry's neck while he undid the top buttons of Harry's shirt, roughly yanking the collar open.

“I know,” Louis hummed happily and then began to suck at the skin below Harry's collarbone. Harry shifted his whole body under the touch of Louis' mouth, but then Louis had pulled up again, kissing the tip of Harry's nose.

Harry sighed. “I want a bruise, Louis. Come on.” Louis didn't reply.

Harry looked up at Louis, taking in his silver-blue eyes and his tanned complexion. He had the best cheekbones Harry had ever seen (and Harry had seen Zayn Malik's cheekbones in person more than once), the kind of light beard that Harry wanted to scratch his fingertips through, and these soft, thin pink lips that were now parted, a steady breath coming in and out of them.

“You're like, really gorgeous,” Harry said. He didn't even feel shy for saying it.

“No, _you're_ like, really gorgeous,” Louis insisted, mimicking Harry's voice. “You are the cutest, sweetest thing I have ever seen. Look at your _smile_ , fucking... what's the word?”

“Big?” Harry guessed.

“ _Non._ Bright, like. You know? How do I say it?”

“Bright?” Harry repeated.

Louis ran his thumb over Harry's lips and Harry couldn't help but smile again. Louis looked almost smug, gazing down at Harry.

“Radiant.” Louis gave a self-congratulatory nod at his word choice.“Radiant?” Harry echoed. “Calm down.”“I will not calm down!” Louis objected indignantly. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

“Well,” Harry said carefully. He wasn't shy, but it was a pretty big thing to say - he'd thought about it a lot lately, how gorgeous Louis was, how their bodies seemed to fit together like matching puzzle pieces. “Maybe we're both beautiful. I think, um...”

“Oui?” Louis said, playfully ruffling Harry's curls by his ear. “I think we look good together,” Harry admitted.

Louis' hand instantly tightened in Harry's hair, pulling his head to the side and dropping his mouth down to the exposed side of Harry's neck. He bit hard lines down Harry's throat, a fleeting pain that made Harry gasp, his cock pulsing in his pants. When Louis' mouth got down to Harry's collarbone again, he finally sucked _hard_. Harry tried to not squirm too badly under it, feeling utterly giddy. Feeling like he was a proper teenager who got to do proper teenage things.

If Louis didn't undo Harry's pants in a second, Harry was going to explode.

Louis finally finished on the spot by pressing a kiss to the skin, then straightening up again. He let his hand fall soft out of Harry's hair onto his shoulder.

Harry looked down. It was too close under his chin to see directly, but in the corner of his vision he spied a purply-pink mark forming. Harry touched it with his fingers, feeling it still damp from Louis' mouth.

“You happy now?” Louis asked. Harry could tell he was trying and failing to sound stern.

“Yes.” Harry was genuinely grateful. “Thank you... I just - I wanted a love bite.”

Louis smiled at Harry quite sweetly, his nose twitching. “You know you deserve everything you want, yes? If you weren't _the_ 'Arry Styles I'd give you one hundred love bites.”

Harry looked back down. “Some days I don't want to be Harry Styles anymore,” he confessed. “It's too hard.”

“Oh, _mon garçon_ ,” Louis exclaimed, rubbing his hand on Harry's shoulder. “It's not _too_ hard is it? You've got me. You're _my_ 'Arry Styles.” Harry's chest swelled at that, but then Louis hesitated, lost in thought for a minute. “No, actually.”

“No?” Harry asked.

“People can't just claim you as theirs, because you look good next to them in church, or because you make them a lot of money.” Louis' hand left Harry's shoulder to press his fingertips into his own chest, indicating himself. “Or because they're quite fond of you. _You_ own you. Don't let anyone else tell you that being 'Arry Styles has to be hard. You do it however you want to do it.”

Harry knew it wasn't that simple, and he could tell Louis knew it as well.

It was nice to hear that no one owned him, though. Harry had never questioned that at the very top, God owned him. Then down the chain it meant his parents did as well. It didn't feel right, though – Harry knew it and Louis knew it too; he was trapped. Surely God didn't want Harry to feel _trapped._

That wasn't exactly the point Louis was making, though. Harry was pretty sure the point was that Harry didn't have to stay trapped _forever_.

“Well, right now,” Harry said while kicking his shoes off and pulling Louis back in between his legs. “I want that _Harry Styles_ life to be about you getting my pants off me.”

Louis hummed in agreement and finally kissed Harry on the lips as his small, nimble hands made fast work of Harry's fly. Louis yanked Harry's pants out from under him and quickly shot out a hand to steady the small stack of suitcases beneath Harry as it wobbled.

Harry giggled. “Looks like being Harry Styles is dangerous.”

“Yes, it is,” Louis said very seriously, stepping back to shrug off his blazer. He hung it on the hook behind the door and turned back around, revealing the innocuous black top he was wearing underneath the jacket had actually been one of the Spiderman ones they'd gotten at Walmart. “Good thing I'm here to save you.” Louis mimed shooting a web from his wrist.

“You wore that to work?” Harry shrieked, giggling so hard that the stack of suitcases shook beneath him again.

Louis pointed an accusatory finger at Harry. “Don't you laugh. You're killing the mood.” “ _I'm_ killing the mood? You think you're Spiderman.”“Spiderman is sexy,” Louis informed Harry quite seriously.Harry laughed even harder. “Spiderman is not sexy!” he said incredulously.

“You little shit,” Louis said lowly. He scooped Harry right up off the suitcases and spun him around, pressing him up against the opposite wall. Harry's feet found the floor again but Louis didn't back off. Harry liked feeling trapped like _that_.

Louis' lips found Harry's and while he kissed him, his hand squeezed Harry's cock through his underwear. Harry's knees buckled and, pushed back against the wall, he just let it happen, his legs going weak and shaky while Louis held him upright, his hand moving faster.

“ _Tu aimes ça?_ ” Louis whispered into Harry's ear. Harry nodded.

Louis added, “Yeah, you do. It's not so bad being 'Arry Styles, is it?” “No,” Harry vehemently agreed.

Louis continued to rub over the length of Harry's hardness as his other hand tugged up Harry's top. Harry undid the rest of the buttons and pulled it off, leaving him standing there in just his underwear that now had a telltale wet spot spreading over the fabric covering the head of his cock.

Louis then took own black jeans off, leaving both his underwear and the Spiderman t-shirt on. Harry bit his lip when he realised just how hard Louis was. He couldn't look away.

“You see how much I like you?” Louis muttered as he pulled Harry's own cock out of his underwear and then pushed his hips against Harry's, rocking the hard line of his own clothed cock against Harry's bare one. “You feel how hard you've got me?”

Louis' two hands gripped either side of Harry's ribcage as he thrust against him, his sharp breaths providing percussion to Harry's very happy whimpers.

Louis ran his thumbs over Harry's skin - and then suddenly paused. “Can I ask, what is this?”

Only half put-out by the recess, Harry shrugged in good-natured resignation. He'd thought Louis hadn't noticed. “A nipple,” he admitted, hoping Louis wouldn't make a big deal of it.

He did.

“ _Trois?_ ” Louis asked, peering closer.

Harry reluctantly pointed to the other side of his chest, a bit lower down.

“ _Quatre!_ ” Louis exclaimed.

Harry paused, a bit uncomfortable. He half wished Louis didn't have him pinned against the wall so he could slip away and hide his whole body.

Louis was tanned all over and fit and knew how to shave his balls and style his hair up and could grow a light beard if he wanted to. Harry, in contrast, was soft and white where the sun never hit, sometimes he got pimples and sometimes his lips were too dry, he never really knew how to do his hair – and to top it all off, he had two extra, small nipples. Maybe Louis and Harry weren't such a nice fit after all; it was naïve to think he was anywhere near Louis' level.

Louis kept his hands gripping Harry's ribs but bent down, kissing all four nipples in turn – and then, for good measure, he kissed the glittering fleur de lis resting on Harry's chest too. That did feel nice, like the jewellery had become a permanent part of Harry.

Louis then lifted his head back up and slowly rocked his hips against Harry's, grunting in satisfaction at the pressure on both of their cocks. He began to kiss Harry's neck, thrusting his hips up against him once more.

“You don't think I'm weird?” Harry couldn't help but ask. “Why?” Louis asked, panting against Harry's neck.

“Why?” Louis asked, panting against Harry's neck.

“Four nipples,” Harry muttered.“I grew up on a farm,” Louis supplied. “I'm used to it. Cows have four too.”Harry shut his eyes, laughing at Louis' stupid answer, and Louis stole a kiss right off his lips.

Harry gave in to it, kissing Louis deep and passionate, digging his fingers into Louis' hips just as tight as Louis was holding him. Whatever underwear Louis was wearing, they were tight and silky and soft and felt very, very nice against Harry's dick.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Louis said, kissing Harry again before he could answer.

Louis' hands pulled at Harry's torso, bringing him in as close as possible, a very satisfying friction on Harry's cock between them. Harry hoped Louis could feel it on his own cock, too.

Before Harry could help it he was coming, his head falling down so his mouth was pressed against Louis' t-shirt, gasping hot and wet against him. He came up all over his chest, probably getting it all over Louis' Spiderman top too.

Louis let out a long, satisfied sigh of pleasure and brought his hands in to smooth it over Harry's torso. He moaned and dug his fingers in, then leant right down again, this time to lick some of Harry's come off his chest, peppering his skin more kisses.

When Harry caught his breath, he thumbed at the elastic of Louis' underpants and asked, “Can I do something for you too?”

Louis thought about it for a moment and then asked, “Can we go out?”

Harry was surprised. “You don't want... a blowjob, or something?”

“Yeah, I do.” Louis laughed, clearly still very hard in his underwear. “But I just want to spend time with you, too. I don't want everything to feel like a secret. You can ask Jeremy, can't you? We could go get dinner.”

Harry felt nerves rise up in his belly. “You mean like a date?” He wasn't sure if he was quite ready – he would be, maybe he already was, just.. not for _today_.

Louis reluctantly shook his head. “ _Non_ , I need to figure the date out properly.” It sounded almost capitalised. The Date.“I just want to go to eat with you. We're still allowed to do that, right?”“Of course we are,” Harry said.

\-----

Louis watched as Harry got his phone out of the pocket of his discarded pants. Still standing just in the entrance of Louis' hotel room, he dialled Jeremy.

“Hi, it's Harry, have you got a second?”

By the end of the sentence, Harry had walked over to where Louis stood and boldly slid a hand right into his underwear. If Harry hadn't been staring into space at nothing, mostly-concentrating on the phone call, he would have seen Louis' eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

Harry's long fingers wrapped tightly around the base of Louis' shaft. He tried to slide his hand up but got stuck in the elastic of Louis' underwear. Impatient, Harry one-handedly tugged them down, quickly picking up Louis' cock again. Slow but tight, he began to jerk Louis off.

“Yeah, settled in fine. I was hoping Louis and I could go out for dinner,” Harry said into the phone. After a quick pause he said, “Yeah, sure.”

“He just said _hold on,_ ” Harry quietly relayed to Louis. He was acting completely casual, as if he didn't have his own come drying on his chest and a hand steadily tugging on Louis' erection.

Louis just stood there, amazed. He wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands but his fingers were tired from tightly gripping Harry's waist anyway, so he just let his arms rest by his sides.

Louis just couldn't believe Harry. Not so long ago it was just a _kiss_ from him that had Louis' heart thumping. Their kisses were routine now, but there was nothing routine about being with Harry.

Louis had spared proper thought to what Zayn had asked; if Harry's novelty would wear off as he aged. Louis was even more confident than before that it wouldn't happen – every step Harry took at embracing his sexuality had the pleasant side effect of benefiting Louis. If the discovery of his sexual side had Harry jerking off Louis as he casually chatted on the phone, then by all means, let him continue to mature.

“A-huh.... oh. How come?” Harry said into the phone. As he waited for a reply, he suddenly dropped down to his knees and licked the precome off Louis' tip, lips briefly pursed like he was savouring the taste. Quiet as a mouse, he then wrapped his lips around the head of Louis' cock, giving him one hard suck.

Louis' entire stomach burned white-hot for a second, incredibly turned on by how risqué it was. Harry carefully and quietly took his mouth off again with a smile as clear as day on his lips. He resumed running a tight fist over Louis' cock.

Louis' eyes were still wide open but he pressed his lips together tightly, resisting the urge to yelp profanities in any language. Harry didn't get up off the floor and Louis just stared down in wonder. Harry was so naughty and so wonderfully, perfectly _good_.

“Does she even want t– right, sorry, of course.” Harry frowned at whatever he was hearing on the other end of the phone and his displeasure seemed to be released through his hand, which began to move hard and fast over Louis. Louis could feel is orgasm _building_ hard and fast, now biting his own lip as a reminder to silence himself.

“Okay, yeah.... Tell Linda thanks.” It sounded like the conversation was winding up and Louis suddenly realised he didn't want it to be over yet, he wanted to come in Harry's hand while Jeremy – asshole Jeremy who made Harry say awful things on camera, who sent Louis packing to France at a whim – was on the other end of the line, completely unsuspecting.

Frantically, Louis gestured at Harry to keep going.

Harry seemed to get it. “Um – so there will be photographers?” he asked quickly, hand coming up higher to twist over Louis' tip. Louis nodded gratefully, rocking his hips to push his cock harder into Harry's grip.

“Do I say anything to them?” Harry asked stupidly, staring right ahead at Louis' cock. Louis' stomach leapt – he was close. He nodded rapidly, silently encouraging Harry.

“Right, right. And... no! No, wait, wait – just... one more question?” Harry asked quickly. “I – um. Will you pray with me?” he suddenly blurted out. “It's just been a bit tiring travelling so much. I feel homesick. It would be really nice to pray with someone.”

Harry then said, "Thanks," and then closed his mouth, now quiet. He even slightly bent his head to pray.

Louis was frozen in the same stance, standing straight up with his hands lax by his sides. He was shocked and amazed and _very_ close to orgasm. If Louis hadn't been so close he might have put a stop to it, but he could feel himself tightening up in a very promising way, and Harry was jerking Louis off right up against his mouth. Louis wasn't one to object.

He balled up a fist, clamping it against his mouth as he came, issuing strangled hisses against his fingers. Harry opened his lips very half-heartedly, so some of Louis' come got in his mouth but most of it just landed all over Harry's lips, spilling down over his chin.

Louis stared down in disbelief as Harry, lips dripping wet with Louis' come, quietly said, “Amen. Thank you.”

Harry hung up the phone.

“What the fuck was that?” Louis laughed into the quiet, absurdly pleased.

Harry just licked off his lips and gave Louis a satisfied nod before talking. “Eleanor has to come with us.”

“You're just... going to talk about the phone conversation?” Louis checked, completely incredulous.

Harry stood up, grinning.Louis wiped a thumb over Harry's chin, collecting the come that his tongue hadn't reached. “Thank you,” Harry said, and then repeated, “Eleanor has to come to dinner with us.” “Has to?”

“Jeremy told me she was looking to go out for dinner tonight,” Harry said, tightening his jaw. “As if I'm stupid enough to believe she was wandering around the hotel like a hungry, lost puppy or something? Clearly Jeremy's just going to _make_ her come. And she has to, doesn't she? It's her job.”

“Ah, so we _are_ back on that one again!” Louis rolled his eyes. “Louis and Eleanor, the perfect couple.”

“There's going to be paparazzi,” Harry explained. “Jeremy said he can't control how many come any more – I guess he tips off just a few but a whole lot come running. Linda is arranging a car and is going to decide for us where we're eating.”

It definitely wasn't going to be anything like a date.

Still, it was dinner, together, out in the real world, and there was worse company than Eleanor. It was better than nothing, wasn't it?

Not a second later Louis' own phone was ringing. It was Jeremy, instructing Louis to dress Harry and Eleanor for the outing – Eleanor in some of the Fendi Louis had bought her in Vegas.

Louis hung up and explained so to Harry.

“Get fricked,” Harry huffed, angry but not angry at Louis. “You can go sort out her outfit, but I'm wearing one of these,” he decided, retrieving one of the Stone Roses tops from his suitcase and heading into Louis' bathroom to shower.

Louis should have told him no. The Stone Roses weren't exactly vulgar, but they also weren't anything like the generic Christian bands that performed on _Modern Missionary_.

Louis liked this Harry, though – the one who went fuck it – _frick it_ – and boldly stood up for the the right to make his own choices. Louis would rather himself deal with the fallout of Harry wearing the t-shirt than forbid him from wearing it in the first place.

\-----

“Listen 'Arry,” Louis said the following morning. “You really want nice clothes, for... our date?”

Harry's stomach did a flip, hearing it worded like that. It was really going to happen; he was going to go on a proper date, he was going to be someone's boyfriend – Louis Tomlinson's boyfriend – and he was going to have sex.

“I mean, I have stuff...” Harry said, biting his lip as he looked down. “It's okay.”

“'Arry, it's me.” Louis tapped Harry's nose to make him look up again, and gave him a knowing wink. “I'll have a good time finding you something to wear. I'm going to have to pick it up in person though. It's too... well, it won't be subtle, getting it shipped over. And I think I've got to order it very soon. If you still want to go on a nice date.”

 “I do,” Harry said slowly. It seemed like a lot of fuss just for clothes... but it was Louis. “I'll have to measure you for it,” Louis said.“You've got my measurements already,” Harry pointed out.Louis turned his head to face Harry directly, and just _looked_ at him.

“What?”

“Do I, 'Arry?” Louis cocked his hip, placing a hand on it. He tapped his index finger, indicating his crotch.

Harry then properly thought back to the first time Louis measured him, in Texas weeks and weeks ago. Harry hadn't worn such little clothing around someone since he was a child and Louis' fingers had made the measuring tape practically glide over his skin. Harry had so staunchly ignored the way Louis made him feel that he was fully hard before he realised he'd have to hide it.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Louis just laughed. “I mean, I know your size, it's fine for the show, but we'll need very accurate measurements for what I want to get you for this.”

“Well - now, then?” Harry offered, eager to redeem himself from the rather embarrassing experience. He and Louis had met almost two months ago. Harry liked to think he had a little more restraint now.

“Sure, now,” Louis replied easily. “Let me get my tape. Clothes off.”

While Louis searched through his suitcase, Harry stripped off his pajamas, tossing them into his suitcase.

He didn't really like them any more, flannel pajamas with frogs or The Avengers or pinstripes on them. His mother bought them for him and he'd never second-guessed it. Pajamas, for sleeping. Of course.

But Louis didn't wear pajamas to bed. If anything he just wore light sweatpants, shirtless and warm against Harry's back. If it was cold, he'd just have a light T-shirt on.

Maybe Harry would throw out his flannel sets. He didn't want to dress up like a child any more.

Louis, on the other hand, might love a set of Spiderman jammies.

Harry blinked, realising Louis was waiting for him, a measuring tape in one hand and his iPad in the other.

“Hold this,” Louis instructed, passing the iPad over. It was open to an app Harry wasn't familiar with, a list of twenty odd boxes to be filled out.

Louis knelt down on the floor in front of Harry, wrapping the tape around his ankle.Last time he'd done this he was fast and efficient with it – not that someone could be particularly rough with a dressmaker's measuring tape, but _this_ time around Louis was slow and gentle.

“Bottom... nine point four,” Louis said quietly.

Harry tore his eyes off Louis to look at the iPad screen – Louis wasn't going in order, and Harry had to scroll right to the end of the page to type it in _9.4_.

Louis slowly pulled on end of the tape, letting it curl away from Harry's ankle. He ran the back of his knuckles up Harry's leg, tickling his leg hairs, then wrapped his tape around Harry's knee.

“Knee. Twelve, seven,” Louis said. “Actually -” He took the tape to Harry's other leg, measuring it too. “Better put thirteen.”

He released the tape only slightly, gliding it up higher to Harry's thigh and then pulling it snug again.

Harry blinked at the iPad screen, trying to not-focus on how Louis' hands and sewing tape felt on his legs. He did like it though, it felt very nice. All Harry was wearing was his underwear and Louis' head was right at that level and gosh, maybe this time being measured would be just as humiliating as the first.

“Thigh...” Louis said distractedly, staring intently at his tape. “ _Seize - seize, trois._ ”Harry quietly smirked to himself. Louis didn't seem to realise he'd slipped back into French, but

Harry knew that number, it was his age. _16.3_ , he entered.

Louis released the tape and stood, but leant down slightly to wrap the tape around Harry's hips.

“ _Vingt-six,_ ” Louis said after a pause.

“Sorry?” Harry said apologetically. That one, he didn't know.

Louis' eyes widened in surprise, like he'd been brought out of a daze. “Ah, _I'm_ sorry,” he laughed. “Hips, twenty-six.”

Louis straightened up and began to run the tape all over Harry's torso. He wrapped it around his neck, then from in between his collarbones – giving a very satisfied smirk at the dark lovebite there - down his sternum, under his arms and around his ribs, he even measured the distance between Harry's nipples. He quietly said a number for each one and Harry continued filling out the boxes.

Louis measured right across Harry's chest, his fingers unavoidably ghosting past Harry's nipples like they had the first time they'd done this. Harry's body betrayed him, giving a small shiver.

Louis' eyes left the tape and glanced up at Harry, a devilish look on his face. Letting the tape fall and dangle from one hand, he curled his fingers up to hold Harry's nipples, squeezing tighter until Harry gave a fast breath in, holding his lower lip in between his teeth.

Louis ran a tongue over his teeth, a very pleased glint in his eye, but he released Harry's nipples. He looked like he was about to return to the task at hand so Harry quickly said, “Wait!”

“Yes, mon petit?”

Harry winced, closing one eye in embarrassment. “I did it again.”

Louis glanced down, Harry's erection very obviously straining at his underwear. Harry watched as Louis' lips parted and his tongue darted out again, licking them.

Harry's mind started to spin off – what if Louis' couldn't measure him properly now, what if this happened every single time, what if Louis could never measure him so he could never buy him nice clothes and they would never ever go on a nice date and Harry would have to go back to being the old Harry, stuck in Texas - a _virgin_ stuck in Texas - adamantly ignoring who really he was.

“ _Gamin,_ ” Louis said in sing-song. “What's that sad face?”

“I'm sorry,” Harry said helplessly.

“No, no,” Louis said calmly. “You're fine. You're not the first person it's happened to, you know.”

“I'm not?” Harry asked. It wasn't actually comforting like it was meant to be. He didn't at all like the thought of other people's dicks around Louis.

“Look at me,” Louis said smugly, glancing down at his own body. “Of course it has. You're the first one that's making it so very hard for me to stay focused, though.”

That was nice to hear. Louis licked his lips again.

Measuring tape still dangling from his hand, Louis ran one finger over Harry's briefs, from the base of his cock to the tip. It definitely didn't help the situation.

“Are you going to measure it?” Harry asked, awkwardly joking in his embarrassment.

“Nope,” popped out of Louis' lips. “You already know you're impressive. You don't need a number to make your ego swell.”

Instead, Louis wrapped the tape around the top of Harry's hips, then the same again but further down, going around his bum too. Louis' hands met in the middle but didn't rest over Harry's cock – he instead pressed the tape against the skin either side of Harry's dick. A tight expression of concentration crossed his face, before giving way to a confident nod. That was reassuring. Of course Louis knew what he was doing, was very good at what he did. He could work around the situation. Harry hadn't ruined anything.

Louis ran the tape from the end of Harry's shoulders around his arm, then from his shoulder to his wrist, around his bicep, then around his bicep again but with two of his fingers under the tape. He bent Harry's elbow and ran the tape along his arm again, then wrapped it around Harry's wrist.

Feeling a bit dizzy - from how hard he was, from how intent Louis' attention was on him - Harry concentrated on copying the numbers Louis spoke, into the iPad, making sure they were correct.

Louis turned Harry around, measured from his back to his bum, from the tip of one shoulder to the other, from under his armpits to in between his shoulder blades. He then pressed the end of the sewing tape at the nape of Harry's neck and quietly asked, “Hold that there for me, _s'il te plaît?_ ”

Harry automatically ducked his head forward as his hand reached behind to keep the tape in place.

“Non, non,” Louis interrupted gently, hand coming around to guide Harry's chin up again. “Keep your 'ead straight. There you go.”

Louis then ran his fingers down the tape, his knuckles gliding down Harry's back all the way down to his ankle.

“iPad?” Louis requested, taking it when Harry held it out behind himself. Louis must have typed in the final number himself, as he then set it aside.

Next, Harry sensed Louis had gotten a bit closer.

To his bum.

“Can I lick you, 'Arry?” Louis asked.

Harry turned his head over his shoulder, looking back in surprise at Louis on his knees behind him. Louis looked up to meet his gaze.

“Such a good boy.” Louis smiled at Harry, running his hands up Harry's legs, finishing with a firm squeeze of his ass. “So very patient while I was measuring you. You deserve to be rewarded.”

\-----

“Pants off,” Louis directed. As he watched Harry pull his underpants down and hook them off his ankles, he wound up his measuring tape and placed it by his iPad. “Legs apart. _Bon garçon_.”

Louis spread Harry's cheeks with his hands and brought his face in, breathing against Harry's skin for a moment. He heard Harry take a shaky breath above him and he slowly ran his tongue out, tickling a light line over Harry's hole. Harry instantly sighed high in his throat.

Harry was utterly perfect. Louis' couldn't get over it. As he had taken Harry's measurements, all he could think about was how absolutely incredible Harry would look dressed in the clothes Louis was going to get him. That's what fashion was; beautiful enough that someone looked just as good dressed as they did naked. And Harry looked _good_ naked.

With who he knew, and who he knew well, Louis' best bet was probably Gaultier. He wasn't totally sold on the idea, though – perhaps their designs were slightly too bold for Harry; gentle, sweet, virginal Harry.

Louis would love to see Harry in Chanel, timelessly classy. At the right time of year he could get it, but he didn't like his chances contacting them today to have something ready within a matter of weeks. He had that pull at Gaultier, but Chanel might laugh him out the door.

Still, Louis hadn't spent years of his life tracking down every last avenue to bespoke tailoring in every fashion capital for nothing.

Balmain might be a happy compromise if he wasn't getting Chanel. Givenchy, like Gaultier, wouldn't be quite right.

There was always Burberry, which wouldn't be quite the same – but Harry seemed to love what they made, and maybe Harry's choice was important here.

Not as important as Louis', but.

Louis' stomach gave an excited leap when he remembered that _he'd_ be getting new clothes too.

Harry let out an awkward little, “Um?”

Louis silently laughed at himself, no idea how long he'd gotten lost in thought. He quickly lapped his tongue back out, wet and firm, giving the boy the full attention he deserved. Harry sighed again, almost in relief.

Harry always tasted good, his skin sweet and clean, today just a little something else from not having showered since before they'd gone to sleep the night before. Louis pushed his tongue right in, moaning into Harry's tightness, warm and soft.

Harry's legs began to twitch, the muscles of his ass flexing beneath Louis' hands. Louis pulled back to ask, “Will you touch yourself?”

“No,” Harry gasped out remorsefully. “I'll come too soon. I want to come with you.”

Louis grinned like a cheshire cat and bit the skin of Harry's ass cheek quite hard. “Good boy,” he praised as Harry yelped.

Louis continued to fuck his tongue in and out of Harry, relishing the drag of how tight and strong Harry was around him. Harry just stood there, perfectly obedient albeit a little silly; with no wall or furniture close enough, his arms just hung by his sides.

Harry was truly wonderful, and Louis possibly wanted to give him the entire world. Custom-made clothing was the best place to start.

Louis stood up and took Harry's hands, leading him over to the bed. He plucked a bottle of lube from Harry's suitcase as he went.

Harry lay himself back on the bed, getting comfortable. He watched patiently as Louis slicked up two fingers and Louis could hardly stand it, thinking that one day soon it wouldn't be his fingers that Harry was watching him make wet and smooth.

Louis leant over Harry, massaging one finger over the start of his hole.

Harry took a deep breath in and then slowly let it out, steadying himself for it.

Louis didn't push in. He just stared down at Harry, his fingertip still teasing Harry's rim.

“Louis,” Harry reprimanded softly.

“Yes?” Louis tried to sound innocent.

“I'm trying to get ready to have sex here,” Harry huffed. Louis' belly jolted, hearing him say it so frankly. Harry continued. “Do you want to help, or do you want to tease?”

Louis considered it. “Both,” he answered honestly.

“Fine,” Harry said decisively. He sat right up, pushing Louis back off his knees to sit cross-legged on the bed. Louis flung both arms out to steady himself but Harry picked one of Louis' hands back up and reapplied a ridiculous amount of lube to his fingers. He guided Louis' hand into his lap.

Harry then turned himself around, and backed down like he was going to sit on Louis' lap. Amazed, Louis helped Harry by moving his hand forward a bit, curling in every finger but one, which he held up straight underneath Harry.

Harry let out such a deliberate breath it almost sounded like an “ _Ooh,_ ” and then sunk his hips down. He made a small noise of discomfort and his hole clenched up tightly, but he took all of Louis' finger in one go.

Louis let out a ragged breath and leant forward to kiss Harry's spine, but was lightly knocked back when Harry began to slowly move up and down.

Harry gave a small, satisfied laugh, apparently proud that he'd defeated Louis and his teasing. He quickly sped up, bouncing very happily right in front of Louis.

It was all too perfect, the way Harry moved up and down in Louis' lap, this absolutely salacious hint of what was to happen in the coming weeks.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Louis cried out loudly, watching Harry ride his finger.

Harry increased his pace and Louis had to force himself not to move his hand. As strong as the urge was to twist his finger up into Harry, it was even better watching him do all the work, his hands pressed flat on his thighs as he rose and fell heavily, over and over again.

“Another finger,” Harry requested without slowing down. “Harry-”

“Just do it,” Harry hissed in interruption.

As careful as possible, Louis curved a second finger up. It slid right in with complete ease. Harry, now only moving faster, let soft wails escape his lips every time his hips fell down.

“Three,” Harry gasped urgently.Louis put his other hand on Harry's hip to try to slow him a little.“ _Trois!_ ” Harry insisted.“Turn around, baby,” Louis wheedled. “Want you to face me. Want you to come on me."

Moving urgently, Harry rose up and off and turned himself around, straddling Louis' lap once more. Louis leant back a bit but held his hand in place, now with three fingers tucked in tight together.

Harry took a deep breath, his lungs filling with air, his ribs moving under his skin. He placed his hands on Louis' shoulders, leaning down a bit too heavily, but Louis didn't mind. He straightened his back, supporting Harry's weight.

He watched Harry's shoulders fall as he let the breath out, sinking down on Louis' fingers. Harry moved his hips side to side a little as he eased onto it.

Louis looked back up at Harry's face. He was wincing a little, but looked calm and determined. He lowered himself as far as he could, and then even pushed down harder, making sure he'd gone as deep as possible.

“I did it!” Harry said breathlessly, his face breaking out into a smile, a tiny shadow cast in his dimple. “Three fingers, I did it.”

“ _T'es excité, mon garçon. Tres bien,_ ” Louis beamed back, swelling with pride over Harry's own pride, the tight stretch of Harry's rim around his knuckles. “Now kiss me.”

Harry leant down to kiss Louis, immediately resuming the frantic rhythm of his bouncing. Louis gently spread his fingers just a fraction apart and crooked them, beckoning in toward Harry's belly.

Harry gave a shout against Louis' lips and dropped one of his hands down, yanking Louis' hard cock out of his underwear and immediately running his hand over the length of it, tugging over Louis' skin.

Louis broke the kiss to look down at Harry's large hand moving fast over him, coaxing precome out of Louis' slit, his fist pulling up and down in the same timing as his hips were moving.

Louis moved his free hand to the back of Harry's head, holding him in close again to kiss, trying to convey so much with his mouth – because Harry meant so much to him, and there was no place Louis would rather be than right there with Harry.

Otherwise, Louis felt a little helpless in a very nice way, nothing to do but sit back as Harry's small, slick hole ran tightly up and down his fingers and Harry's hand fisted over Louis' cock, bringing him closer to orgasm with every movement.

“Baby,” Louis whimpered. “Harry.”

“Come on,” Harry groaned quietly, hand tightening around Louis. He leant forward, head now over Louis' shoulder so they couldn't kiss, but his cock was pressed up against Louis' stomach just a little higher than his own, and he was pushing himself in so hard that Louis could tell he must also be close. Louis let his hand slide down from Harry's hair to the middle of his back, pulling him in even tighter.

“Are you going to come with me?” Louis asked, half as a request, half in curiosity. Harry might never cease to amaze him.

“If you come _now_ ,” Harry gasped frantically, and instantly his body began to shudder against Louis' chest, the muscles of his rim clenching impossibly tight around Louis' fingers. Harry's hand gripped Louis' cock with urgency, still bouncing up and down over his fingers. Louis felt hot come shoot out of Harry and land on his chest, smearing down his belly with Harry's movement.

“Keep going, please don't stop,” Louis encouraged. “Just like that, I'm – I'm so -”

Only a few seconds later he was coming too, choked shouts pushed out against Harry's chest as come spilled from his tip, adding to the beautiful wet mess between them.

\-----

“'Arry Styles,” Louis said fondly, dropping his head to rest on Harry's shoulder as they lay on the bed, sweaty and messy and perfectly content in it. “Tell me everything about yourself.”

“What?” Harry giggled, self-conscious at being put on the spot. “I don't know. You already know me.”

“I don't know _everything,_ ” Louis insisted. “I wouldn't mind knowing more.” Harry kissed the top of Louis' head.

“Okay, um...” He paused, trying to think of something good. “Did you know I can sing? I've done some musicals, just amateur ones. I wanted to start a band in high school but my parents didn't approve, so I wasn't allowed. But I think I'm an all right singer.”

“You'll sing for me one day?” Louis asked.Harry was glad Louis didn't ask for _today._ Maybe he would, one day. “What else, then?” Louis poked Harry in the side.“Na-uh! I said one, it's your turn now,” Harry declared.“Okay.” Louis paused just like Harry had, thinking.“Not about fashion,” Harry challenged him.

“Ooh, he's playing hardball,” Louis said to himself. Harry didn't mind the flash of attitude once he got an answer from Louis: “I don't like carrots. I really don't like carrots.”

Harry was surprised. “Carrots are a very inoffensive vegetable, Louis,” he commented. “Compared to brussel sprouts, or something.”

Louis gave an odd shrug. Harry looked at him, waiting for more, but Louis didn't open his mouth. Harry pushed, “How can you not like carrots?”“I had a bad experience in my early teenage years,” Louis explained delicately.“Oh, come on. How can you have a bad experience with a carrot?”

“It just wasn't... cooked well,” Louis said. His uncertain tone was very suspicious. Harry quickly pushed himself to sit up, pointing an accusatory finger at Louis. “What?” Louis asked.“You didn't cook it,” Harry boldly guessed. “You put it up your bum.”

Louis pressed his lips together, looking guilty as sin.“You gave me shit for poking a tiny little toothbrush up there when _you shoved a whole carrot up your ass?_ ” Harry asked incredulously.“ _Ta gueule_ ,” Louis said fondly as he grabbed Harry around the neck and pulled him back down. “A whole carrot?” Harry nudged Louis in the side.

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, his small hand doing nothing to cover up his embarrassment. He spoke quite quickly. “It wasn't a very long carrot and it got stuck up there and I had to go to hospital to get a nurse to pull it out so I don't like carrots any more, and _please_ , it's your turn now.”

Louis had been so very nice about the toothbrush incident, so Harry took mercy on him, procuring another random fact from his memory. “I didn't always have brown hair. When I was little it was really blonde.”

“Curly, though?” Louis asked, plucking at one of the spirals in Harry's hair and letting it spring back.

“Not even! Kind of shaggy. I wonder if my kid's will have the s...” Harry trailed off, feeling like he'd been punched in the guts.

“Hey, 'Arry?” Louis asked gently, noticing the change in Harry's demeanour.

Harry was scared that if he opened his mouth he might cry. He pressed his thumb nail into the pad of his index finger. Louis noticed straight away, separating Harrys fingers so he could hold his hand.

Harry's voice came out a as a hoarse whisper. “How am I supposed to have kids at all if I don't even want a wife?”

“ _Mon chéri!_ ” Louis said quickly, kissing Harry's cheek. “You can still have kids if you want.” “I don't want to have sex with girls,” Harry divulged. “Ever.”He was pretty sure he was even gayer than Louis was.“You don't have to have sex with girls,” Louis said kindly. “You can adopt, _non_?”

“I guess,” Harry said. He'd never considered adoption – that just wasn't the way people did things where he was from.

“And you can find a child with curly hair like yours!” Louis suggested happily. “Or, you could foster older children, there's a lot of kids who just need a home for a few years.”

Harry nodded. He didn't know if it was the same as actually being in the room when your baby was born. Then again, he'd never been in a room when anyone's baby was born. Maybe it didn't matter so much.

“Or you can get a surrogate, you know,” Louis went on, seemingly intent on reassuring Harry. “A private birth parent, or through an agency. And the baby will have your DNA then, so we can witness this blond-to-brunet miracle again,” Louis said, waving a finger at Harry's hair.

Harry didn't miss Louis saying ' _we_ '.

“I suppose I shouldn't like, pass my DNA on though,” Harry said sadly. “Why not?”“If my kid's gay like me, you know.”“Are fucking kidding me?” Louis sighed, not in a nice way.

“What?” Harry shot back, put-off by Louis' tone.“Are you gay just because your parents are?” Louis asked pointedly.

“My parents are straight,” Harry argued. Then he realised what he was saying, and immediately dropped the volume of his voice back to normal. “Oh. So it doesn't matter what your parents are.”

“Obviously not,” Louis said. “You know a man and a woman raised me, and – _well_. Look at me.”

Louis was right, but, still...

“I think I'd still feel bad though, if my kids were gay,” Harry admitted. “Even if it wasn't my fault.”

“How come?” Louis asked.“It's not very fun, is it?” Harry said weakly. “It's scary.”

“'Arry,” Louis said, gently pulling Harry into his arms and giving him a few rocks side-to-side. “I think you'd be great at teaching your children from the very start that they can be themselves, whoever that is, and they'll still be loved unconditionally.”

“I would, you know,” Harry said determinedly. “I _will_. My kids are going to know I'll love them no matter what.”

“Good.” Louis kissed Harry's cheek.

“My parents aren't like that, you know,” Harry admitted to Louis, feeling like he was sharing something that should be kept secret. “They won't love me if they find out I'm gay.”

Louis' arms tightened around Harry. “I want to say that's not true, but...” Louis sounded so sad. “You know your parents better than I do. All I can say is, anyone would be crazy not to love you.”

“Are you crazy, then?” Harry hinted quietly. “Or...” "No, I'm sane,” Louis said. “ _Je t'aime._ ”

 


	22. Chapter 22

For once, Louis woke up before Harry. He contemplated screaming Harry's name to rouse him, see how he liked being woken up too early for a change – but somehow Louis wound up simply propping himself up on one elbow as he gently played with Harry's curls, getting lost in thought.

He didn't just love Harry. He was fairly sure he was in love with him. He had never been in love before, so he didn't really know what to look for. But if this was it... Louis could definitely deal with that.

He didn't mind being in love with this quirky, sixteen-year-old boy with green eyes and an enormous smile and a dimple in his cheek. Louis definitely loved Harry's big dick and his plush lips and the way he looked good in absolutely anything he wore. He loved Harry's pale thighs too, the way he smelled after a long day, the way he tried to be good to everyone he came across, and almost always got it right. Louis also loved Harry's silly extra nipples and the shock that crossed his face when he felt he was about to come and he loved, loved, _loved_ Harry's hair, soft and curled into spirals.

Harry shifted a little and breathed in, apparently waking up.“God knows how many hairs you've got, you know,” he mumbled.

Louis didn't even know what to say back. He just looked down at Harry, slowly waking up by his side. It seemed that between the gossip magazines and the tweets and the TV shows, the whole world got to see Harry. It was right, that a person like Harry was plastered across the country; he was wonderful, and he was beautiful.

Louis was the only one who got _this_ Harry, though. The one with slow, tired eyes and ugly-messy hair and maybe morning breath or drool on his cheek or a pillow crease imprinted down the side of his face. Louis loved it all – and this Harry always woke up with a raging erection, which wasn’t the worst thing Louis had ever laid next to in bed.

“Seriously.” Harry's voice was a bit clearer, even though his eyes were still shut. “That's how much he loves you. He's counted the number of hairs on your head.”

“Me?” Louis asked. “Everyone,” Harry answered.

That was comforting, like a bit of pressure had been taken off Louis. He didn't believe in god but if there was one, Louis felt a little nervous about him knowing Louis so well.

“God knows everything.” Harry opened his eyes, looking at Louis. “And you don't even know that I love you.”

Louis' face wanted to split into an enormous smile, but he didn't let himself, not certain of what Harry was saying. He just kept his hand moving, winding one of Harry's ringlets around and around his finger.

“That's an interesting thought for first thing in the morning,” he commented, wondering if Harry wanted a way out from what he'd just said.

He didn't seem to. “I can't count the hairs on your head, but the least I could do is tell you.” “Tell me what?”

“That I love you,” Harry said, surprising Louis with how steady his voice still was. “More than I've ever loved anyone.”

Louis did let the giant smile erupt then, bowing down to rest his forehead against Harry's. “I think this is the best day of my life.”

Harry giggled and copied Louis' accent; “That's an interesting thought for first thing in the morning.” He rocked his head up to kiss Louis.

“Come on,” Louis reasoned. “I know it will be the best day. What could top hearing you say that?”

“Hearing you say it back, for starters,” Harry said pointedly. “I've said-”

“I've said-”

“Not in English,” Harry specified.Louis paused too long, and Harry gave a confident little, “Hah!”

“ _Hah_ nothing,” Louis said. “You listen to me Harry Styles, I am madly in love with you. No, wait – let me say your name properly and all; Hhh, arry.”

“Nah.” Harry shook his head. “I like that you say it different. You're the only person who really knows me. Well, I guess my uncles, too. Maybe god. But you know me better than anyone else does. I like that you say my name differently from how everyone else says it.”

Louis lay back down on his side, pulling Harry into his arms and kissing his shoulders. “What have you got on today?”

“Meeting with Jeremy,” Harry replied.“Writing the skit?” Louis guessed – he'd seen it mentioned in a group email from Linda. “Yep. Can't I stay in bed instead?”

“Sure, but I won't be here,” Louis said. “I have to get more clothes sorted for the next guests on the show. And I need costumes for the skit, whatever it's going to be; so the faster you write, the sooner I'm done shopping. Would you like to stay in bed with me next day off though?” Louis posed a question he already knew the answer to. “Room service brunch? Blanket fort?”

“Okay,” Harry said in fake resignation. “If I have to.”

“You don't have to,” Louis said sincerely. “But you're invited.”

“Will I always be?”

“Every night, _mon petit_.” Louis kissed Harry's cheek. “Every morning.”

“What happens when tour's over?” Harry questioned.

“Well... whatever you want.” Louis wasn't sure where he could see Harry in a few month's time. “College? Move out? Or go back home and find a job?”

“I don't know what I want to do though,” Harry said a little sadly. “For a job. How did you pick?”

“I just always knew I loved clothing. I love fashion... I love beauty, I love art. And I know I have great style.” Louis regretted he wasn't more helpful, but that was really all there was to his answer. “Isn't there something you just... _know_?”

“I know you.” Harry said.

“ _Non,_ I mean like, something you're sure of. Something you'd want to pursue. Something you might want to do for many years.”

“You. I want to sleep with you every night,” Harry said with certainty. “You smell nice and you don't snore and I love you. That, I'm sure of.”

Louis squeezed his arms tightly around Harry, grinning like an idiot right into his back. “I love you too. I don't know what I'm doing after this. Back to France, move to Italy, I don't know. But

I'd like to be around you. We could move to New York, maybe. Get an apartment. And get a cat to eat all the rats in it.”

“We could go to that bar every week,” Harry said brightly. “You could stick your dick through that hole and I could suck it.”

“ _Mon dieu_ , Harry!” Louis cried out, laughing. “What on earth?”“I know what a glory hole is,” Harry said brightly. “We should do one.” “And miss seeing your beautiful green eyes?” Louis mused.

He realised he was in deep, and he didn't mind. With the men he'd been with in the past, he wouldn't have minded performing the _entire_ relationship through a glory hole; no talk, no pressure to show feelings, none of that.

With Harry... Louis just wanted to hold his hands and kiss his lips and stare right into his eyes without blinking.

“I have to do _something_ , though,” Harry went on. “Go to college, I guess. I don't know.” “You said you sing, and you wanted to start a band,” Louis remembered. “Why don't you do

that?”“Because my parents think it would put bad people around me.”

Louis thought about it for a moment. “Play good music, be a good band, and you'll have good people around you. Right?”

“I don't know if I'm talented enough.”“Well, that's what I mean. You can study music, so you learn more about it.”

“I'd like that,” Harry said. “But my parents are in control of my money for college, I think. Money from this show and everything.”

“It's your money,” Louis said, a little outraged. “Your choice.”

“Nope,” Harry said reluctantly. “They wouldn't let me spend it on studying music. They'd say... I don't know, law, or journalism, or something.”

“We'll figure it out,” Louis promised. “You should be free to do whatever you want to do.”

“I better get up,” Harry sighed. He sat up, but Louis followed, quickly scrambling in front of him and grabbing his hands.

“Before you go.” “Yeah?”

“New York. I think that's our best bet for a proper date. That's where I'll be picking up our new outfits anyway, and I know the city well. There's lots of nice places to go. Restaurants and theatres... even the zoo. I'll take you to another bar. I'll get us a really nice suite in a hotel.”

Harry smiled. “Do you reckon we could get there before we have to go for the tour? Go for a night, just you and me alone?”

“We could try,” Louis said carefully. “We'll see.”

“Can we stay at the Plaza?” Harry asked.

Louis laughed. “Why the Plaza?”

“Like in Home Alone 2,” Harry explained, pinching his nose to make his voice nasal. “ _Housekeeping._ ”

“Whatever you want, _mon petit_. It's yours.” Louis kissed Harry's lips. “Go on, get ready for your meeting.”

Harry hid in the bathroom while Louis ordered room service, coffee for himself and a bagel for Harry. Louis sat up in bed, sipping his coffee while Harry got dressed.

Harry picked up the bagel, force-feeding Louis a bite before he left.

He paused in the doorway, chewing his own first bite and then swallowing so he could speak.

“I really do love you, Louis.”

“Go to your meeting!” Louis shouted. “Or god help me, I'm taking those clothes right back off you and making you come on me while you say that.”

Harry shook a finger at Louis, scolding. “Not fair. I have to go. Just – just you wait until I get back.”

\-----

Harry hadn't expected Louis to already be waiting back in his hotel room when he returned. Louis was sitting on the end of the bed. He hadn't even taken his shoes off.

“Show me the script,” Louis demanded before he'd even said hello. “ _Salut,_ ” Harry said pointedly.“Sorry. Hi,” Louis said brusquely.Harry was unsure of his expression. “Are you angry?”

“Right now, show me,” was all Louis said.

“I think Jeremy sent me a copy, hold on.” Harry opened his email and passed his phone over to Louis.

Louis skimmed over it, and then looked up at Harry. “Explain it to me.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “There's this story in the bible. Jesus is teaching in a temple in Jerusalem, and it's customary for people who enter to donate money. All these wealthy people come in and donate lots of money, and the disciples are impressed, everyone's impressed, because they're so generous. And then this old, poor woman comes in. And she only donates one or two coins and people think she's being cheap, right? Ungrateful, and that.”

“What's the moral of the story?”

“I'm getting there.” Harry smiled at Louis' impatience. “Afterwards, Jesus tells the people that the old woman donated much more than the rich people did. And of course they're like, _no she didn't, she only donated two coins_. But Jesus explains that because she wasn't very wealthy, those one or two coins were a big sacrifice for her. The rich men donated a large amount of money, but it was still just a drop in the ocean for them. So it didn't actually mean much to God.”

“And you're playing...?”

“I'm the rich man who donates a lot of money. It's modernised for the show, right, so instead of a temple, it's a charity ball. I'm a wealthy businessman, and I publicly make a huge donation. Super smug about it.” Harry winked. “One of the waiters at the event is listening to all the speeches and stuff and donates five dollars. I laugh at her. But in the end, it's explained that really, I'm the one who's being so cheap. It's written really funny, don't you think? We did a good job at it.” Harry took his phone back from Louis, feeling quite defensive. They'd worked on writing it for over two hours, he and Jeremy and a script writer.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis said softly. He reached for his own iPad and brought up an email, passing it over to Harry. “Read it.”

_Waitress: White shirt, black pants, apron._

_Rich man: Shaggy black wig, black fedora type hat. Black suit, white shirt, black vest. Toy black glasses with fake nose (party supplies store?)._

_Extras: assortment of cocktail dresses etc, suits for men._

“I don't really know what I'm supposed to be reading,” Harry admitted.

“You don't know what your character is supposed to look like?” Louis asked.

“A rich guy.” Harry said. They'd just gone through it.

Louis looked away for a moment, then looked back at Harry. “Are there many Jewish people where you're from?”

“Not many,” Harry guessed. “Everyone's Christian, really.” “Have you studied history?” Louis asked. “The 30's and 40's?” Harry shrugged. “Sort of.”“Ah, you don't get it.” Louis sounded frustrated.

“Sorry,” Harry apologised.

“I don't know how to say it,” Louis said uncomfortably. “This skit plays on a very nasty stereotype. The costume brief, they want you to look like a Jewish man.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Harry asked. Louis had to be wrong. Modern Missionary was a Christian show.

“Because they're saying your character is... cheap with money? It's hideous, 'Arry,” Louis said. He looked almost sad.

“Oh, it's not like that!” Harry assured him. “It's not like... racist, or something. It's just saying this one guy is cheap. Not every person. It doesn't even say he's Jewish. Anyway, you're doing the costume, you can pick clothes that aren't so obvious.” Harry suggested brightly.

“Fake nose?” Louis asked pointedly. “It's a _very_ obvious, very ugly stereotype.” “It's not a stereotype,” Harry insisted. “It's just one person.”

“'Arry, come on,” Louis said. “If it's not a stereotype, why does Jeremy want this guy to look a certain way?”

“Do you think I shouldn't do it?” Harry could feel his stomach starting to churn with worry. It seemed like the further he went with this TV show, the more he hated having to do it.

“It's your choice,” Louis said. “ _Moi_ , I'm not getting the costume for it. But Jeremy might just get someone else to buy it.”

“I'll see if we can change the script. I'll figure out something to say to Jeremy.”

“Just... maybe don't relate it back to me and the costuming, _oui_?” Louis asked cautiously. “Can you make it seem like you figured it out by yourself?”

“Sure.” Harry got it. As far as Jeremy knew, Harry had gone back to his own hotel room, didn't even know Louis had interrupted his costume shopping to talk to Harry.

“I'm going to go see him now, and tell him I'm not getting involved in it,” Louis said, standing up.

Harry still felt ill in his guts. It was embarrassing to have taken sixteen years to realise what stereotypes were, it was embarrassing to make this mistake in front of Louis, but he couldn't fully blame Jeremy for it.

Not when he'd done it before.“Louis,” Harry asked, a tense lump in his throat. “Do you have Zayn's number?” “You want to call Zayn?”

“Maybe just text him?” Harry said. “I think I said some... stereotype things to him. I should apologise.” Harry could feel his cheeks burning with shame. Louis was there at Zayn's party, he'd heard at least half of what Harry had said.

Louis got his phone out of his pocket and passed it over. “I'm proud of you for thinking of that. But call him, okay. Over text is cowardly.”

Harry nodded, looking at the phone – trying not to feel too nervous.

“You know he doesn't have to forgive you if he doesn't want to,” Louis said seriously.

“Okay.”

“But even if he doesn't, I'm sure he'll appreciate your call. Tell him I say hi.” Louis kissed Harry's forehead and left to go talk to Jeremy.

The phone only rang twice before Zayn answered. “Tommo!” “Um, hi. It's Harry - Harry Styles.”“Harry,” Zayn said. _Harreh._ “This is a surprise.”“How are you?” Harry started.

“I'm well. How are you?”

“A bit, like... um. I need to talk to you.” Harry began pacing the room.

“Sure,” was all Zayn said.

Harry took a deep breath.

“I don't know if you remember at your party, but I said some things to you that I think were very... ignorant.”

Zayn didn't even needed to pause to think about it. “I remember.” “I'm really sorry.”“You're calling from Tommo's phone. He tell you to apologise?”

“No, it was my idea, I swear,” Harry promised. “I am honestly sorry. I didn't know what I was saying at the time... and I probably still don't really know what I'm talking about,” he admitted. “But I'm realising I was very narrow minded. And also just plain rude. I'm sorry I said those things. They weren't nice.”

“Thank you,” Zayn said.Harry didn't really know what else to say, but then Zayn kept talking.

“I'm just glad you said it to me and not someone else. You're lucky – I was stoned, and a bit preoccupied with hosting the party. And I've got a thick skin. Not everyone does.”

Harry breathed out in relief, stopping his pacing to sit down. Zayn was being sort of stern, but he was still being nice to Harry.

“Have you always been like that?” Harry asked. “Thick-skinned?”“No. It used to really hurt me. When I was doing more modelling work, in London and that, I had

to delete my whole twitter account. I got so many tweets – things just like what you said to me, and it honestly hurt.”

“But you know it's just a stupid stereotype,” Harry said. “It's not true.” “You've never been hurt by something, even though you know it's stupid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have,” Harry said. It hurt even thinking back to hearing those kind of things. It hurt then, and it still hurt now.

Harry hadn't meant to bring it up, but he couldn't help himself. “So... there's something they want me to do in Modern Missionary,” he started explaining to Zayn.

“What is it?”

“A skit, in which I'm playing someone who is very, I guess greedy, with money. And Louis explained the costume is supposed to reflect a certain group of people. But, it's not like, saying everyone in that group is like that. It's just one person.”

“Then why pin it on them?” Zayn asked. “How do you mean?”

“There's greedy people in every race, religion, everything. Why does it have to be linked to a certain group of people?”

When Zayn explained it like that, Harry felt a lot worse. Zayn was right about all sorts of people being greedy – Jeremy was one of the worst Harry had met.

“What if I didn't even tell people I wasn't doing the costume, but just surprise everyone by doing an impression of the director instead? _He's_ greedy with money.”

Zayn's laughter seemed to be more at Harry than his idea. “How do you think he'd take that?” “Not well. Thing is, I think I don't want to be the type of person he'd be proud of any more.”

Harry was starting to open up a lot to a relative stranger, but he couldn't really help himself. If Louis trusted Zayn, Harry could too. Still, he knew he should quit while he was ahead.

“Anyway. I just called to say that I am sorry for what I said to you. That's the way people talk where I'm from, but it was stupid of me not to think about it before repeating it. I'm sorry you were the one who had to take it.”

“Do you know why I just took it? Why I didn't say anything back?” Zayn asked.

“Because you're a nice person?” Harry guessed.

“Not exactly. Because if I got angry, I'd just be reinforcing the stereotype in your head.”

“Oh, God.” Harry hadn't even thought of that. “I, um – I know about feeling trapped. It's not a nice position to be in. I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you for apologising,” Zayn said sincerely.“I should let you go. Thanks for listening to me. I know you didn't have to.”“Before you go,” Zayn said quickly. “Look, it's not my place, and the two of you seemed pretty chummy in Vegas...”

Zayn was talking about Louis – _Harry and Louis_.

“Yeah?” Harry tried to sound casual.

“I'm just wonderin', if maybe I'm not the only one you owe an apology to. You didn't speak very delicately to me about Louis being gay.”

“Ah,” Harry said, feeling worse. “You're right.”Zayn was more right than probably he realised. Harry owed Louis a _huge_ apology.

“You know how many people I've seen him rip into for talking shit?” Zayn carried on. “And not in like, an aggressive way, but – he's good with words, you know. And he's very proud of who he is. He's done charity work for organisations that help gay people, even. I've seen men we've worked with say homophobic things around him. With a few choice words, he's cut them down like a blade of grass. He's not like that with you, is he?”

Harry didn't know what to say – he wasn't sure how much Zayn was supposed to know. He had seen Harry holding hands with Louis at the Fendi show.

“Might be worth thinking about, is all,” Zayn finished. “Why you're worth being so patient with. And if that patience has come at a cost.”

Harry felt overwhelmed. He had a lot to think about in regard to Louis. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“Any time,” Zayn said.

“God bless.” Harry then realised; “Wait, should I not say that to you? Since you're Muslim?”

“It's fine,” Zayn kindly replied.

“Do you have like, an equivalent?”

“ _Asalamu alaykum_ ,” Zayn supplied. “It means peace be upon you. And you can say _wa alaykum alsalam_ back.”

“ _Wa ala_... oh, jeepers. That's harder to pronounce than French stuff. But... peace be upon you, too.”

Harry heard Zayn chuckle. “Close enough. Cheers.”Harry laughed too. “I better go now - find Louis and talk to him, too. Hope to see you soon.”

When Harry hung up the phone, he saw Louis had received a text message from Linda. _As planned, please take luggage to hotel reception for checkout. Meeting in Jeremy's room 2.10pm sharp. Floor 19, Room 1507._

\-----

Louis' talk with Jeremy had gone all right, but not for the right reasons. Jeremy had waved off Louis' refusal to costume the skit, only because he had something more pressing to discuss. He handed Louis some photographs he'd had printed – Eleanor, Harry and Louis out for dinner the other night.

“I specifically told you to dress both of them for this appearance,” Jeremy said curtly. “And you give me the kid in Stone Roses merch?”

“Not a kid,” Louis muttered. “What?”

“Nothing, never mind. I thought we wanted him to appeal to mainstream media as well as Christian.”

“Mainstream media. Not... rock and roll _punks,_ ” Jeremy spat out.“The Roses are vintage,” Louis tried to reason. “It's cool, it's retro. Makes him look more accessible, less holier-than-thou.”

“I don't want to see him in something like this again. Thin ice, Louiss.” Jeremy snatched the photos back. “These have already gotten out, I can't shut them down now. So we're just going to ignore it like it never happened. No more messing about with this 'cool retro' thing. Stick to the brief you initially received, understood?”

“Got it,” Louis said grimly.

“That's all we need to discuss. I'll see you on set this afternoon. I expect Harry to be dressed appropriately.”

When Louis returned to his room to pack up the last of his bags, Harry wasn't there. He'd already taken his own bags downstairs, too.

Linda was already waiting by the hotel's front desk when Louis brought his suitcases down. She was talking to one of the sound techs.

“Louiss, hi,” she said flatly. “You'll have to head up to Jeremy's room right away, he's called a quick meeting.”

“I was just there half an hour ago,” Louis said slowly, stepping past her to put his bags into the small holding room. It was quite full, he must have been one of the last to bring his bags down. “What's it about?”

“Just head on up,” Linda instructed. “Most of the crew's already there, we've got to be quick before we go to the set. Nineteenth floor, room 1507.”

The door to Jeremy's room was already open and Louis walked straight in, noting that Jeremy's suite was fucking enormous. It probably cost as much as the rest of the crew's rooms did all together.

Harry was sat on a couch next to his favourite makeup artist. She was playing on her phone but Harry was just staring at his own knees, looking worried. He looked up when Louis came in, like he'd just sensed Louis was there. Louis tried to give him an encouraging nod but stayed back, leaning against the wall.

Linda and the sound tech were the last to enter, and Jeremy shut the door behind them.

“This meeting is strictly confidential,” Jeremy started, commanding authority as he stood in front of everyone. “Nothing leaves this room. I don't want you talking amongst yourselves about it, and I absolutely don't want anything being talked about with anyone who's not in this room.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement. Louis kept his face still, trying to ignore how Harry looked like he was practically sweating.

Louis was sure that if Harry had known something was up, he would have found a way to let Louis know – but if Harry didn't know what this was all about, it meant that Harry was feeling anxious and guilty over nothing - and that was all Louis' fault.

 _Merde,_ no _-_ Harry couldn't have contacted Louis even if he did know what was going on. Louis' phone was still with Harry.

Jeremy cleared his throat and Louis looked up, realising Jeremy's eyes were right on him. “I want everybody's full attention right now,” Jeremy dictated. “Linda just went down to finalise check- out. They said there'd been a mix-up, and our bill was reduced. One of the rooms hadn't been used.”

 _Putain._ Louis was fairly sure Harry had not even opened the door to his own hotel room.He deliberately kept looking at Jeremy, not moving his head even a little to the side to see if Harry was looking at him.

“Linda double-checked the numbers with both the staff and with me, but ultimately made the right choice in agreeing with the staff member that there had been a mix-up, and graciously accepting the discount.”

Linda nodded to herself, but she didn't seem proud.

“There wasn't a mix-up,” Jeremy loudly stated. “Linda and I know exactly who is on our team, and we know how to book hotels. We've been doing this for years. Someone didn't sleep in their room."

Louis wondered if Harry could prepare an excuse. The poor boy hated lying so much. Jeremy didn't have to corner him in front of the entire Modern Missionary team, the asshole.

“I can't ask hotel staff which room it was,” Jeremy explained, clearly irritated. “The hotel obviously knows we're all with CNTV – one of Tennessee’s most popular television networks, I might add. If I appear suspicious, they'll wonder why. People talk. We can't afford that.”

Jeremy choosing to not ask which room it was seemed to be the kind of ridiculously good fortune Harry would credit to god – the kind of good fortune that gave them pouring rain in Tucson, or only one bed in Las Vegas.

Louis' didn't believe in god. To him, it felt more like dumb luck. Either way, he was relieved.

“What I can ask now is that the person who's made this indiscretion shows this team the same integrity we have always shown you,” Jeremy said curtly. “We are a family here, and it pains me to think that someone would disrespect this small community so severely. I'd like an explanation. Now.”

With every fibre of his being, Louis silently willed Harry to not move a single muscle. He even dared steal a glance at him - to his horror, he observed Harry clear his throat and open his mouth.

Then out of nowhere, _Eleanor_ stood up.“I stayed with family the past few nights,” she said.

That... definitely wasn't right. Louis had slept with Harry each night, and Harry had brought his suitcases straight to Louis' room. Jeremy was sure enough of the numbers that he'd called this meeting. A meeting about _one_ unused room.

So Eleanor had definitely slept in hers.

“I'm really sorry,” Eleanor said. She hesitated, biting her fingernail, and tears welled in her eyes. Louis wondered how on earth hadn't she gotten an acting job yet - he almost felt sympathetic.

“My grandparents live here and my grandmother's really sick,” Eleanor said in a shaky voice. “She's very old. I didn't tell you straight away because it was hard to talk about, and then after seeing her I realised she really doesn't have much time left. She didn't even recognise me, and then I definitely couldn't talk about it, it's just...” she cut herself off and pressed her fingertips against her lips.

“Oh, Elle.” One of the social media girls jumped up and gave her a hug, rubbing her arms. “That must have been awful. Of course Jeremy understands why you didn't bring it up, right?”

Louis couldn't read Jeremy's expression, but at least he was nodding. He seemed to take a minute to process the story, but thankfully he accepted it. “No real harm done, Eleanor. I wish your family the best.”

Jeremy's eyes then snapped over to Louis and he gave him an urging look. Louis panicked for a second before he realised it wasn't anything to do with Louis and Harry, it was that the majority of the people in the room thought Eleanor was Louis' girlfriend. He should have been the one who leapt up to hold her.

And he might have done so, as a friend, if he wasn't so sure she was lying.

Louis crossed the room, picking up a box of tissues off the coffee table as he went. He pulled one out and dabbed under Eleanor's eyes (with the delicate touch of a man who'd dealt with many a model's eyes watering under harsh runway lights,) and gently kissed her cheek.

Eleanor nodded gratefully, but there was something more in her eyes; she was definitely lying, and what was worse, Louis was pretty sure Eleanor knew she was lying specifically for him.

“The transgression is mine, and I'm sorry to all of you,” Louis told the room. “I knew what was going on and I should have been the one to inform you, Jeremy.”

“That's fine,” Jeremy said. “I'm glad Eleanor has you for support.”

Linda then lead the entire room in a prayer for Eleanor's grandmother. Under her breath but loud enough for Louis to hear, Eleanor muttered, “I'm going to hell. My grandma's in her seventies, alive and well in Florida. She's probably playing golf right now.”

“Louiss, we won't need you on set today,” Jeremy said after the team had finished praying.

Louis carefully raised an eyebrow at him. Was he really so ashamed of hiring a gay man, was the bearding so necessary, that he'd risk the quality of the show he was producing just to keep up a stupid ruse? Did it really matter what the show's team believed?

“That's what wardrobe assistants are for,” Jeremy added calmly. “You and Eleanor go be with her family, and please don't hesitate to let Linda know if you need anything.”

Jeremy nodded at Linda, who quickly thanked everyone for meeting and advised them on where the company cars would be waiting to take them to set.

Louis quickly pulled a wardrobe assistant aside, explicitly dictating that she send him photos of what she was putting Harry in.

“Louiss, it's fine,” she brushed him off. “You just focus on your family right now.”

 _His_ family? Maybe the media hadn't quite bought Eleanor, but the team sure had. Louis couldn't believe they didn't see right through Jeremy as easily as he could.

“It's a live show,” Louis insisted. “It's important.”

“It's probably easier to focus on work right now, isn't it?” The wardrobe assistant nodded understandingly. “I promise you, I'm good at dressing people too. This is my job too, you know. Don't worry.”

Louis didn't want _good._ He wanted perfect. Harry deserved the best.

He looked over at Harry, who seemed relieved to finally have caught Louis' attention. Harry pointed at Eleanor then in a muted way raised his hands up, utterly confused.

Louis raised his hands up too, but nodded his chin towards the door, encouraging Harry to leave. Harry turned one hand into a beak, miming a chatterbox. _I want to talk to you,_ he mouthed.

 _Sorry,_ Louis mouthed back helplessly. _Later._ He turned back to Eleanor before he let himself change his mind.

“So, where to?” Eleanor asked Louis as they left the hotel.Before Louis could answer, he heard a shout. “ _Louis, Louis! Eleanor!_ ” Paparazzi.

“ _C'est quoi ce bordel?_ ” Louis muttered, absolutely incredulous as he reluctantly slid an arm around Eleanor's waist. She fixed a smile on her face, leaning in to Louis as they waited for the company car to be brought around, bright lights flashing all around them.

Louis turned his head in, pretending to kiss Eleanor's cheek as he talked. “Jeremy believes your grandmother's dying and he _still_ alerts the fucking paps?”

“ _Incroyable!_ ” Eleanor lilted back in a whisper. “This is actually disgusting,” Louis said.

Thankfully, the valet came around with a company car soon enough – Louis wondered if he'd been instructed to give them a proper moment with the paparazzi before appearing – and passed the keys over to Louis. Paparazzi still yelling and shooting as they got into the car, Louis put a hand on Eleanor's thigh before pulling away.

Eleanor repeated her initial question. “Where to?”

“I don't know Nashville.” Louis took his hand back. “We can just drive until we see something interesting.”

“Dolly Parton has a house here, doesn't she?”

“We're not stalking Dolly Parton.” Louis shook his head in amazement.

“Fine,” Eleanor agreed. “We'll just drive, then. Don't suppose you want the radio on?”

“No,” Louis said. “I need to talk to you. I've got questions.”

Eleanor adjusted her seat, casually leaning back. “Fire away.”

“You lied about your grandmother,” Louis started. “You did sleep into your hotel room.”

“I was waiting for _you_ to come up with a lie,” Eleanor said, almost scolding him. “But you didn't move, and then Harry opened his mouth, so... I took one for the team.”

“Harry.” Louis didn't elaborate.

Eleanor did. “Poor thing was looking _so worried_ before everyone else got to Jeremy's room. So I said some nice things about him filming today, and it took him a second to understand what I meant. I realised he wasn't sick with stage fright, he was stressing about something else.”

“Ah.” Louis pretended to be concentrating on the road.

“He didn't seem to relax when Jeremy brought up the unused room.” Out of the corner of Louis' eye, he saw Eleanor mime putting her hands on her knees. “White knuckles,” she noted.

Louis waited for her to go on.

She didn't quite continue – she jumped to a new point. “I don't think it's good karma to be doing this. With you, I mean. I'm not exactly having a bad time on this tour, but I'm not like the rest of the people on the team. I can't believe half the things that come out of their mouths. They're so prejudiced.”

“I've noticed,” Louis agreed.

“I get along with you,” Eleanor said honestly.

“Thank you.”

“And Harry.”

She was back at Harry.

“He's not like the rest of them either. Interesting, isn't it?” It was a rhetorical question. “He's nothing like the team of people that are working on a show that's supposed to be his.”

Interesting.“Zayn's party,” Eleanor then announced out of nowhere.“Hm?” Louis asked, quickly glancing over at her. He was just struggling to keep up with her. “Zayn's party in LA. I was there, I saw the way Harry looked at you when you were with Zayn.” “Harry was with a girl that night,” Louis noted.

“He left with you,” Eleanor countered. “But just before then, he was loudly whinging to that girl about the 'ancient' music they were playing. Totally derisive about _Breaking Into Heaven..._ yet he wears a _I Wanna Be Adored_ t-shirt to dinner with us the other night?”

“What?” Louis tried to sound scornful.“Don't you talk to me like I'm crazy.” Eleanor wagged a finger at Louis. “You all have actual jobs here. I don't. I'm _bored_ , and I have time to observe things.”“So? He likes a old band.”“Or, he likes someone who was alive when the Stone Roses were a _new_ band.”Louis took a deep breath in and out, waiting. He wondered just how observant Eleanor was.

“He did not seem happy at Zayn's party. Then, the next time I saw him was after you two were alone in Vegas for a couple of days. He looked like the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Prancing around fashion shows in camp silk shirts.”

“He wasn't prancing,” Louis said. “And it wasn't a fashion show, it was a cabaret show.”

Eleanor just breezed ahead. “You go to Paris, I get moved into the suite you were sharing, and Harry is content with sleeping on the couch.”

“It was a nice couch,” Louis defended.

“Yeah, I know. Humble, christian television star Harry Styles sleeping on a couch doesn't surprise me. _This_ ,” she said, waving her finger all around to indicate Louis from top to toe. “This French situation happy to sleep on a couch? A bit harder to imagine.” When Eleanor continued, her voice was _too_ casual. “It's almost easier to imagine that perhaps neither of you slept on the couch. As if, maybe, the two of you top-and-tailed in the king.”

Louis began to rack his brain for a witty retort, but Eleanor moved on to her next point, unintentionally – or perhaps intentionally? - rescuing him.

“Harry invites me to the museum in Phoenix and chatters a mile a minute. He flat-out asks me if I'm a lesbian.”

“Mon dieu.” Louis laughed loudly, trying to apologise through it.

“The kid seems pretty disappointed when I tell him I'm straight. Didn't want to let all his hopes down at once though, so I told him I experimented with girls in college. He seems to be the only straight male who doesn't ask for elaboration on that story.”

Louis couldn't help but beam with pride. Through the corner of his eye, he could see Eleanor turn to face him, her eyebrows raised.

“What?” Louis asked earnestly. “Maybe he's not into college girls making out.”

“ _Everyone's_ into college girls making out,” Eleanor said. “Except Harry. Harry, who as far as I know believes you and I are in a relationship, is suddenly asking me about my sexuality.”

“Ah.” Louis poked his tongue into his cheek. “I see,” he said noncommittally.Eleanor kept looking at Louis.“What are you getting at?” Louis sighed, exasperated. “Just fucking say it.”“Wild theory,” Eleanor posed. “I think someone's got a bit of gay hero-worship going on.” Hero-worship was definitely a more comfortable assumption than _illicit affair_.

“It's not my place to talk about Harry's sexuality,” Louis cautioned.

“Right, that's fine. Let's say you two are just good friends then, and not that Harry needs a mentor.”

“Yes, say that,” Louis sniped. “I'm not his mentor. He's an equal to me.”

Eleanor paused for a moment, seemingly considering what Louis had said. “All right, I get that. I don't have any trouble talking to him, and he's obviously mature enough to be here, touring the country, instead of still being back in school with kids his own age. I just think there's more to him than meets the eye.”

Louis rolled his eyes – as if _he_ needed to be told. He knew there was a lot more to Harry than what people saw.

“If he's found a good friend in you, that's wonderful. Anyway,” Eleanor gave a heavy sigh, and finally returned right back to her initial point. “I feel terrible; I spend time with the rest of this film crew and I look down on them because they're so closed minded, so homophobic, so prejudiced.”

“Don't feel bad about that,” Louis reassured her. “I don't blame you for looking down on them. I do.”

“What better am I, though, if I happily take an absurd paycheck just to reinforce the... superiority of heterosexuality?”

“Please, don't feel bad,” Louis emphasised. Eleanor was part of his safety-net, he couldn't lose her. And he didn't mind spending time with her. “I agreed to this.”

“You had to,” Eleanor pointed out. “I'm not the one being asked to lie about who I am. I just thought it was the least I could do to even out my karma, if I lied for Harry this morning.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, and he meant it. “We'll find somewhere to eat, yeah? Lunch is on me.”

Eleanor wasn't finished, though. “When I was in high school, I dated a baseball coach.”

“Do you know the way you talk is really annoying?” Louis said, but he was smiling and Eleanor was too. “You tell things backwards. It should go link, _then_ the next topic. Not the other way around.”

“Try to keep up, Frenchie - oh, there's a diner up there, see? Keen?” “Okay.”

Louis found a park and Eleanor was quiet as they went inside, finding a table. She was looking like the cat that swallowed the cream, so Louis indulged her. “Your baseball coach,” he prompted her.

“Not my baseball coach,” she clarified. “He didn't work at my high school. Just _a_ high school. But, he was older. I was younger. I was in school, he was working. No one approved. Like, the entire fucking town didn't approve.”

“I can imagine,” Louis said reluctantly.

“I'm gathering where I grew up wasn't quite as conservative as where people like Harry and Jeremy have come from, but it wasn't exactly liberal. People freaked out about the age gap before they even knew us.”

They halted their conversation to order food – Louis asked for a salad, but when Eleanor asked for a bacon cheeseburger an Oreo milkshake, he hesitated.

“I think he actually wants the same as I'm getting,” Eleanor astutely requested.

“It's a wonder my pants still fit,” Louis said as the waitress left. “I can't believe American food. Anyway – this baseball coach you dated?”

Eleanor leant back in to finish her story. “He was fine. He was so completely fine. I was mature enough to have a proper relationship with him, he never manipulated me, he never rushed me. He genuinely respected me.”“Didn't make you run to second base before you were ready, hm?” Louis joked.

Eleanor's shoulders slumped as she looked up at Louis, wincing. “That's the kind of joke Harry would make.”

It clearly wasn't meant to be a compliment, but Louis took it as one.

“I have nothing but fond memories and I wouldn't take it back,” Eleanor finished. “If I may be so bold, I perhaps see some similarities between that relationship, and you and Harry.”

“Me and Harry are not dating,” Louis quickly assured her. At best, it was an argument of semantics.

“Do you know how he feels about you?” Eleanor asked.

“No,” Louis lied. He felt butterflies in his stomach, recalling Harry's declaration of love that morning, and tried to keep the smile off his face.

“Working theory number two: he's got a giant crush on you,” Eleanor declared. “And why wouldn't he? You're cool and French and good-looking and probably the only gay man he knows.”

Louis internally agreed with each point but the last, although it was close enough; Harry wouldn't be crushing on either of his uncles any time soon.

Harry didn't like Louis just because he was the only gay man around, though. Louis was sure of that.

“Don't break his heart, okay?” Eleanor sincerely requested. “This can't be easy for him, being gay and having been pushed into this show.”

“Pushed in?” Louis asked curiously. “He auditioned.”

“He auditioned,” Eleanor agreed. “But he told me that his pastor told his parents about the show. And his pastor's real buddy-buddy with Jeremy. It was more than just luck.”

“Interesting,” Louis said slowly. He didn't know what to make of that. “I'm not going to break his heart,” he stated. “Harry knows how I feel about him.”

“Which is?”Louis paused. “We get along well.”

“Ouch,” Eleanor said, reeling back from Louis' simple statement. She then mouthed a word that Louis missed.

“Hm?”“Friendzoned,” Eleanor said out loud this time. “What-zoned?”

“You've got to have a French equivalent, for when someone wants to be more than friends but they're shut back down into the friend-zone?”

“That's pathetic,” Louis dismissed.

“Sure, but I don't doubt it's real to a sixteen-year-old's mind,” Eleanor pointed out. “You've told him you just ' _get along well_ ' but you're letting him sneak into your hotel room for sleepovers? Mixed messages, isn't it?”

Louis frowned. “You think it would be better if I crushed Harry back?”Eleanor broke out into laughter. “You've got to say _crushing on,_ or _had a crush._ Not just ' _crushed Harry_ '. And yeah, it would be heaps better. It'd be cute. But you can't force it, can ya.”She gave him a knowing look – like she might know Louis didn't have to force anything when it came to Harry.

The waitress came back with burgers and giant milkshakes, and Louis' mouth watered at the smell. It certainly wasn't French food, but it had a _je ne sais quoi_ all of it's own.

“Say I was _crushing on_ anyone at all,” Louis said. “Why would I trust you with that knowledge?”

“I just lied for you this morning,” Eleanor reminded him. “Not only for Harry. For both of you.”

“And I'm grateful for that,” Louis said sincerely. “But I'm not saying anything.”

“You don't have to,” Eleanor said, smugly pointing a 'french' fry at Louis. “Your face lights up when you say his name, just like his does for you.”

“Bullshit,” Louis muttered, quickly taking a large bite of his burger. “So, back to the the conspiracy of Harry's casting,” he said after he'd swallowed. “I'm supposed to believe that goes all the way to the top, all calculated and planned. Yet Jeremy accidentally hires me, panics when he finds out I'm gay, and quickly forms the worst bearding attempt I have ever witnessed?”

“You don't know?” Eleanor said, milkshake glass in her hand frozen halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean, I don't know?”

“Oh my god.” Eleanor leant in. “I'm not saying this to gossip, okay. I'm saying this to reiterate that Jeremy is a fuckwit.”

Louis smirked. _Fuckwit_. He'd have to remember that one. “Cass told me that your position had been filled for a month.”

Louis vaguely recalled that a Cass was on the social media team. Maybe. It might have been the hair and beauty team.

“Then this woman, future head of wardrobe for Modern Missionary, starts asking about maternity leave. Her contract didn't outline it.”

“Why not?”

“Because she's not married,” Eleanor recited like it was scandalous. She then dropped her tone back to disparaging. “Literally. Jeremy figures out she's pregnant and unmarried. He finds some stupid loophole and fires her. Then scrambles to find someone to replace her last-minute.” She pointed at Louis.“Absolutely incredible.” Louis shook his head.

“Right? She wasn't even due before tour finished. He just couldn't have a pregnant woman on staff if she wasn't married.”

Louis sighed. As the tour went on, Jeremy was getting harder, not easier, to tolerate. Louis genuinely wondered if he'd last the four months. He might have already quit if it weren't for Harry.

“Word in the street is that you asked for some ridiculous salary and Jeremy actually met it.” Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “I'm pretty sure Cass was trying to get me to admit I'm a gold digger. I told her I loved you for your talent.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Louis said, pretending to blow Eleanor a kiss. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I'm saving up for our engagement.”

“Ooh, that's a good one,” Eleanor noted. “Should we get me a ring? I'm twenty-six, you know, clock's ticking.”

“I'm thirty-two,” Louis reminded her. “You can wait.”

“Why aren't you married yet?" Eleanor asked curiously. "Isn't gay marriage legal in France?”

“Oui, for about a year now.”

“So you and Harry will be wed over there, then?”

“Shut it,” Louis said, stealing the Oreo that was wedged on the side of Eleanor's milkshake glass.

“You are getting paid quite a lot though, if the number Cass said was correct?” Eleanor signed out a few numbers with her fingers.

“It's not as much as my last job,” Louis said truthfully, without confirming the number Eleanor guessed. “But I'm comfortable.”

“Look at what you wear! You're a lot more than comfortable. I'd be laughing if I was getting what you're paid.”

“I don't know,” Louis said uncomfortably. “I'm used to having money.”

“Rich parents?” Eleanor asked casually.

“No,” Louis said curtly. His parents were hard workers and Louis' didn't resent their farm life, but he was proud of what he'd made for himself. “I've worked hard for my money. I spend it wisely.”

“Not just shirts and shoes, then?”“Shirts and shoes are the most important,” Louis said, dodging Eleanor's question again. Eleanor got serious again, though. “So you're Harry's out, then?”“His 'out'?”“His _way_ out,” Eleanor clarified. “Rich guy, come to save him.”

Louis shook his head seriously. “We have never talked about money, there's been no reason for it to come up. Anyway, Harry wouldn't use me.”

Eleanor cocked her head, thinking about that.“I have to trust him as much as he trusts me, you know.” “And you do?”“I do.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

Louis was assigned to the tour bus for a ten-hour overnight trip to a small town inArkansas. Along with as a handful of the crew, Harry was on the bus with him. He'd sat next to Louis in one of the conventional bus seats on the upper level, saying, “I don't sleep well in the bus. Looking forward to sleeping next to you tomorrow night.”

Louis looked over his shoulder – a makeup artist had headphones blasting and a cameraman was asleep with his slack face pressed against the window.

“I'll come to your room, okay. No more sneaking out of yours.”

“If you're smart enough to make a room look used, I'm sure I am too,” Harry said with a frown on his face.

“I know,” Louis assured him. “I just don't want you to have to worry about it. So I'll come to yours, oui? But if you ever want some time by yourself, just to chill out – I'll sleep in my own room. I won't be offended.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know everything's about six million times better with you around, yeah?”

Louis pressed his lips together to keep from smiling too big. “Yeah, I know.”

“I am worried,” Harry said after a moment. “Not about rooms, about... some people who watch the show. The ones who are really paying attention to me. At the live show you missed, a couple of audience members had these signs. They stopped holding them up pretty quickly, or maybe someone took them off them. One said ' _gay rights_ ' and one said ' _Support Love_ '... but then smaller, down the bottom – ' _Harry for equality, equality for Harry_ '. What's that mean, equality for Harry?”

“We can't know for sure,” Louis said carefully, not wanting to let on how it worried him. “We can only guess.”

Harry sighed. “I've already guessed. They think I'm gay. I've seen similar stuff on Twitter. Some worse stuff. There's not much of it, but... a few people really think I'm gay.”

He said it so sadly that Louis had to give his hand a squeeze.“And they'd be correct,” he added helplessly.“It's not exactly an insult, if it's coming from people who are supporting you?” Louis tried. “How would they even know I am – you know... gay, though?” Harry asked.

Louis just shrugged. He didn't understand the Modern Missionary-watching generation even half as well as Harry did. He didn't know what they'd look for – whatever Louis had normally looked for, he hadn't seen it in Harry. He'd seen something brand new.

“Well, it's not something I need right now,” Harry said bitterly, then let out a low laugh. “Or maybe it is. Maybe the whole world should just find out and then I can lose the show and lose my family and just get on with whatever's left.”

Louis ran his thumb over Harry's hand, ready to drop it the second he heard movement from someone in the bus. “There will be lots left for you _._ Maybe the people with the signs aren't helping like they think they are, but – it's something, isn't it? It shows that there's people out there who'll support you.”

Harry just sniffed and rubbed at his nose, looking tired.

“Hey, _mon petit,_ you're sleepy.” Louis said, letting go of Harry's hand.

“ _Je suis..._ not _fatigué_ ,” Harry quietly argued, a cheeky smirk on his face.

“ _Non, t'es tres fatigué. Trop fatigué!_ ” Louis playfully poked him in his dimple. “I know you, I can tell. Go down and score yourself a good bunk, okay.”

Harry stood up, balancing himself with a hand on the window. “Are you coming down?” “In a bit.”

Louis was the last to retire out of anyone on the bus, taking the one spare bunk left. He had almost fallen asleep when something hit his shoulder. Turning on the reading-light, he realised it was a shoe.

A fucking shoe.He yanked back his curtain.

Harry's head was hanging out of the top bunk opposite Louis', waiting. When he saw Louis he pouted and pulled up the middle of his curtain, pointing miserably at the erection in his loose pyjama pants.

Louis furiously gestured for Harry to put his curtain down – the kid was insane, Louis hadn't even seen Harry watching him get in. He quickly drew his own curtain shut again too, fishing his phone out of the small wall-pocket – he also procured someone's old candy bar wrapper - life on the tour bus. _Magnifique._

Louis quickly typed out a message to Harry. _Deal with it yourself._

 _So I have permission, then? :)_ Harry sent back.

 _It's not wrong, Harry._ Louis replied, trying to be patient. _You don't need permission to do it. But you also don't really need to do it on a bus with that guy who holds the fluffy microphone's pole thing sleeping soundly below you, hm?_

Harry didn't reply for a few minutes, so Louis sighed and sent, _Yes. You have permission._

Not five minutes later, Louis began to hear faster breathing coming from Harry's bunk. He rolled his eyes and then closed them, trying to fall asleep – but when Louis heard Harry gasp, his dick twitched in his pants.

He then kept his ears pricked up and when he caught the faintest of muffled whimpers, his own hand found its way down, pushing the heel of his palm against himself.

Louis fumbled for his phone, and sent: _Mon bon garcon, you stay quiet, okay? You're being so good._

 _Are you wearing underwear?_ Harry texted back. _Was that supposed to be dirty-talk?_ Louis couldn’t help grinning, typing one-handed as he continued to push at himself through his pants.

_I'm not wearing any, just my pyjama pants. Need something to come into._

There were tissues and toilet paper on the bus, probably empty old water bottles too, but fuck, it was a hot idea – and where had Harry even got it from?

 _Quick_ , Harry added.Louis shimmied out of his pants, pulled off his underwear, and poked his head out the bunk, nervously glancing to see if anyone else was up. Harry's head popped out too, hand expectant.

Louis balled up his dark purple Prada underwear and threw it over. It wasn't a great toss and for a split second Louis' heart jumped into his throat, thinking Harry would miss it, but Harry was surprisingly athletic and quickly leant forward, grabbing them.

Louis drew his curtain again and settled back down in his bunk feeling paralysed, now lying there naked and decidedly pretending he was not hard.

The only thing on his mind was Harry. Harry's ragged breath, his big cock, his long fingers now wrapped around bunched-up fabric as he thrust his hips up into his fist.

Louis could still hear him, quick gasps pushed out of his mouth, short inhalations catching in his mouth, the rhythmic crinkle of bedsheets below him.

Louis just prayed everyone else was fast asleep, or at least wouldn't distinguish the sounds when they didn't know to listen for them.

Soon, Louis heard two high, frantic, strangled squeaks, and knew Harry had come.

Louis grit his teeth and wrestled his pants back on – he was thirty-two for fuck's sake, far too dignified to jerk off on a stuffy bus that a portion of his coworkers were on.

 _Took a photo for you..._ Harry sent to Louis.

Panic burned in Louis' chest as he quickly typed back, _No, don't send it._ What he was doing with Harry was one thing, but he was too smart to keep obviously personal photos of Harry on his phone – especially photos of that calibre.

He also was in no way a saint and needed to make Harry decide against it now - because if Harry tried again, Louis would probably say yes.

 _Not of me, you 'con'. I'm not stupid,_ Harry sent back. Louis heard a giggle come from Harry's bunk.

 _Don't call me an idiot,_ Louis replied, laughing quietly too. _You're not even using it right._

 _Con con con con!_ Harry sent, with a wink emoji.

A moment later a photo came through, and Louis was relieved to see no part of Harry's body in it. It was Louis' Prada underwear in a small crumpled heap on the mattress of Harry's bunk, the harsh light of the phone's flash illuminating the splatter of his come in a obscene way.

Louis didn't sleep a wink the rest of the bus trip.

As soon as they arrived and checked into a small hotel the following morning, Harry left again to film. Louis had to bite his tongue to keep himself from asking, “You are going ahead with the skit then?”

He let Harry go. It was his choice, not Louis'.

\-----

A company car took Harry to the makeshift set. In the small town, he'd expected something humble, but it was just as fancy as any other set he'd been on for the show; a simple scout hall on the outside, but the inside was made to look like a very glamorous ballroom – at least half of it was, before the set promptly dropped off back into plain hall where the crew were setting up cameras and lights. Harry saw one of the wardrobe assistants milling about a clothes rack, looking smug – probably pleased that she was in charge, with Louis off set for the day – the second time in not too long, Harry realised, which was a scary trend to be forming.

When Harry saw Jeremy, he waved at him. Jeremy barely paid any attention.

Harry walked over to him, brushing off the hairdresser that tried to pull him over.“I don't want to do this,” Harry said feebly.“What?” Jeremy said, more focused on looking over the set than at Harry.“I don't want to do this,” Harry said, a little louder this time. “This skit, I don't want to do it.”

Jeremy did look down at Harry now. “Is this Louis Tomlinson's influence?”

Harry figured his best bet was cluelessness. “What? I haven't gone over to wardrobe yet, I haven't seen him.”

Jeremy just _looked_ at him. Harry felt about three inches tall.

“It's not very Christian to paint other people in a bad light,” Harry said. It gave him confidence to articulate it like that – he couldn't predict Jeremy's response, but if God was on Harry's side, who could really be against him? “The script plays on stereotypes. It's not something I believe in doing. Not anymore.”

Jeremy's eyes widened. “Harry, you can't tell me this at the last minute. You wrote the script with me, there's nothing bad in it. Look around you. There's forty-three people on set here today, another twenty-three actors. You'll be letting them all down. You made a commitment.”

 _Twenty-three actors,_ Harry pondered. “Get one of the extras to do it.” He took a deep breath. “I'm not going to be in it.”

“The show's been successful,” Jeremy acknowledged. “I'm very proud of how well it's doing and how the audience response to you has been. That doesn't mean you get to have a diva moment, Harry. You're under contract. Go get your hair and makeup done, and get into costume. We're starting to film in an hour and a half.”

“No.”“ _No?_ ” Jeremy repeated, incredulous.

“Get one of the extras to do it,” Harry repeated. “That's nice, isn't it? Giving them an opportunity? I'm under contract to be the _Modern Missionary_. I don't think a good Christian missionary would do this skit. We'd be isolating a whole group of people rather than reaching out to them.”

Jeremy looked furious, but Harry had to keep going before he let himself back down. “I'll lose my voice," he threatened. "I'll lose my voice and I won't be able to film and then we – not just me, you too - will have wasted everyone's time. Just pick one of the extras to learn my lines.”

“Right,” Jeremy said harshly. “I'm sure they'll appreciate the opportunity, that you feel you're _so_ high above. I'm incredibly disappointed in you. I'm going to be calling your parents tonight.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you,” Harry said. “Maybe you shouldn't try to make me film bad things.” “There's nothing bad in this skit, Harry.”“Maybe you think so. But I won't do anything I don't believe in.”

Jeremy's face tightened for just a split-second, clenching his jaw. “I want you off the set, _now_. Go back to the hotel. I'm cancelling your interviews for tomorrow as well, until you get out of this mood.”

“You're punishing me?” Harry clarified.

“I'm giving you a day off to sort your head out,” Jeremy worded carefully. “I suggest you make time to call your parents tomorrow, or call Father Alan from your church. You need to get your head out of the clouds and your feet back on the ground. You're not Brad Pitt. I'm going to go talk to the actors, and when I get back, I don't want you on my set. Understand?”

 _My_ set, he'd said. Not 'the set' any more.“Yes,” Harry said, feeling guilty - but empowered, too.

“I want you to have a good, hard think about your behaviour today, Harry. I expect you back on set and at the top of your game at the next shoot. It's at a farm, you remember? Big crew required. You'll be letting down a lot more people if you miss that one.”

“I won't miss that one, it's...” Harry started to protest, but he let himself trail off - Jeremy had angrily stormed away before Harry could even finish.

\-----

Louis was surprised when Harry came back within the hour that morning, knocking on his hotel room and slipping in before Louis had even fully opened the door.

“I need to talk to you,” Harry announced, shutting the door.“Okay, Curly.” Louis ruffled Harry's hair. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No,” Harry said. “Grabbed a muffin from the craft services table before I left. I didn't do the skit.”

“I see that.” Louis smiled, walking back into the room.

“I got to set and told Jeremy I wasn't doing it,” Harry said as he followed him. Louis just sat on the bed, but Harry flopped straight down onto his back.

“How did he take it?”

“He's cancelled my interviews tomorrow.”

“What the fuck?” Louis said too loudly, absolutely amazed.

“They weren't big TV ones or anything, just radio.” Harry kicked off his shoe harder then necessary.

“Mon petit,” Louis said, gently taking Harry's other shoe off him. “You okay?” “I can't effing do anything right,” Harry muttered, a brave grimace on his face. “You do everything right.”“No, I really don't do anything right. That's what I have to talk to you about.” “Okay.” Louis lay down next to Harry, turning on his side to face him.

“So, I talked to Zayn – I apologised to Zayn, and he reminded me that I probably owe you an apology too.” Harry shut his eyes and ducked his head down, hiding.

Louis put one of his hands under Harry's chin, and Harry opened his eyes again, gaze unfocused somewhere at Louis' chest. “I kept saying like, 'no homo' to you, and worse things than that too.”

“You've stopped,” Louis acknowledged. “I'm really glad about that.”

“I kept saying I'm not gay. When I was doing, like... really gay things with you. That can't have been nice to hear.”

“It was okay. You were confused.”“It wasn't okay.” Harry's pale green eyes looked up at Louis. “Believe it or not, I understand you.” “You do?” Louis wanted to sound self-assured... but Harry's look was far too knowing.

“I don't think you want to admit that things hurt you. To yourself, or to anyone else. When you got back from France, you never said you were missing your family. But you must have been. It must suck being so far away. And hearing me keep saying I wasn't gay must have _really_ sucked. I think you maybe told me that you didn't like it one time. Just once. That's it.”

Louis pressed his lips together, afraid to open his mouth.

“Zayn says you don't take shit from anybody. _Anybody_. And I've seen it, with the people we work with. If they get even a toe out of line, you make them take a whole step back. Except you went easy on me.”

“I guess,” Louis admitted.

“It was more than I deserved, and I kept fucking up basically every second chance you gave me. I'm sorry.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Louis said.“See, that's what I mean,” Harry said casually. “You sort of... hide sometimes. You speak French, or you don't admit that something hurts you.”“Right,” Louis said. “Well, _thank you,_ in English. That really means a lot to me.”“You know it was a lie, right?” Harry asked. “That ' _I'm not gay_ '? I've always been gay.” “Oh?” Louis was surprised to hear Harry say it – pleasantly surprised.

“You're special.” Harry winked. “But you're not _that_ special. I was always gay, I was gay way before I met you. I just... didn't let myself be. Until you came along, and you showed me that it's okay. It's fine to be that way. It's all still really new and really, really scary to me but I should have thought more about how what I said would affect you.” Harry took Louis' hand and pulled it up to his lips, kissing his fingers. “I'm sorry.”

“Harry,” Louis whined stupidly in two draw-out syllables, not knowing what else to say. “Thank you.”

“Do you know how scared I am?” Harry said.

Louis properly thought about the question. “I don't think I've ever had to be afraid about my sexuality in the way you are. I've been very lucky. I can imagine what it's like for you, though. You have a lot to lose.”

“Exactly.” Harry gripped Louis' hand tighter. “So... do you know just how important you are to me? I was so scared of admitting that I was gay even just to myself, and I have so, so much I stand to lose. I wouldn't put it all on the line for just anyone. _C'est... tu?_ ” Harry finished.

“It's me?” Louis translated - Harry was close enough. “It's only you.”

\-----

Louis' fingers felt so wet and slippery in a very nice way, as he slid a second into Harry. It only stung a little bit and Louis pushed in so gently, easing Harry into it. The head of Harry's cock was poking out of his own fist, pink and shiny in contrast to the pale skin of his hand.

Louis didn't move his fingers once they were inside, and Harry didn't move his hand, just kept it gripping himself tight, tongue between his lips in concentration as he looked at Louis, sat in on the bed with Harry straddling his lap. Louis just looked right back at him.

Harry edged his hips up but Louis' hand chased him, staying inside so Harry could barely feel the movement within him.

Harry was tingling, every part of him; a swooping deep down low in his belly, a rush going through his cock that matched his heartbeat, a burning behind his chest when he looked into Louis' blue eyes. He stayed like that, rocked up on his hips a bit, waiting for Louis to make a move.

Louis raised his hand up just the tiniest bit. He pushed his fingers in what couldn't have been more than half an inch further, but Harry was sensitive and so turned on and his upper body jerked in closer to Louis. He could feel his rim clenching tight around Louis' fingers.

Louis moaned. “So nice and full, aren't you baby.”“No,” Harry said, breathless even though they were barely moving. “Want more of you.” “Patience,” Louis said softly. “Don't want it to hurt.”

Harry brought his hips down slowly, and Louis' hand moved with him, never once pushing in deep enough for Harry to really feel a proper pressure. Harry widened his fingers away from his dick and wrapped them around Louis' too, tightening his fist again to squeeze their cocks together.

“How's that?” Harry asked, sliding his hand up over them both as well as he could manage.

A low whine cracked in Louis' throat, like he couldn't even get that much out. Harry claimed his lips instead, first kissing the sides of his mouth, feeling the tickly prickle of Louis' light stubble, before planting proper kisses on his mouth, lips open and wet.

Louis kept teasing, not moving his fingers properly no matter how much Harry squeezed his bum around Louis or tugged at their cocks. Louis didn't pull his fingers in and out, or push a third in so Harry could feel that nice stretch, or curve his fingers in to make Harry's stomach jolt and thighs tremble and cock glow. He just waited – Harry soon found out what for.

Louis ducked his head back from Harry's, leaving just enough space between them to talk. “ _Peux- tu encore me dire que tu m’aimes?_ ” he whispered, trailing his nose over Harry's cheek.

Harry leant his head around and nipped the skin on Louis' neck, kissed his earlobe. “Pur too what what?” he whispered back, giggling right by Louis' ear.

“Say it for me again, _mon petit._ ”

It made Harry nervous. The first time he said it, it had been bubbling up inside him for days and days and he kept feeling like he was about to burst. Then he woke up with Louis' hand in his hair, watching over him like some sort of guardian angel, and he suddenly felt so utterly sad that he hadn't said it sooner. So he had just blurted it out.

Now, sitting so still, looking right at each other, naked in a tangle of arms and lips and bare chests, it felt a lot bigger.

“ _Peux-tu encore me dire 'I love you'?_ ” Louis coaxed, gripping Harry's thigh with his free hand. It wasn't like he was nagging. Harry wanted to say it, and maybe Louis knew Harry needed help not being scared. If there was one thing that could make Harry feel strong, it was Louis.

Harry slowed his hand right down, easing off from jerking the both of them to say it.

“I love you.”

The sweetest smile slowly crossed Louis' face, his lips curving up, the happiness spreading right up as his eyes crinkled up at the corners. “ _Moi aussi, je t'aime._ "

Louis curved his fingers then too, pressing forward into Harry's lower belly. A kittenlike wail slipped out of Harry's lips before he could stop himself. Even though his legs were trembling, Harry pushed up then down again, and this time, Louis didn't chase him with his hand. He kept his hand still and let Harry move over him, the soft skin of Louis' fingers gliding in and out of Harry's rim.

Louis kept his fingers curled in a little and it was sending jolts of pleasure right through Harry, so much that he dropped his cock and just worked over Louis' with his hand, not needing to coax his own orgasm out any faster.

It felt incredible, better than anything he had ever felt and Harry was sure it was better than anything ever _could_ feel, he didn't want this with anyone but Louis. Not now, not ever.

“Make me your boyfriend now,” Harry gasped out.Louis' free hand found Harry's shoulder and firmly stopped him from bouncing up and down.

“'Arry,” he said quietly, almost like a question. He carefully took his fingers out of Harry.

“No, don't stop,” Harry whined, wiggling his bum in Louis' lap. “Come on.” He wanted to rise up again, keep falling back down on Louis' fingers until he came all over them both, make Louis come too – but Louis was looking at him with this stern, fixed curiosity, and he didn't put even one finger back inside Harry.

“What does boyfriends mean, then?” Louis asked, putting his hand over Harry's to pause the movement over his cock too.

“Um.” Harry leant forward and kissed Louis' cheek, buying time to think. “It means when we do this, we love each other.”

Louis' eyes were down at Harry's chest as he quietly said, “I love you all the time.”

“Even better,” Harry said. “And it means that we're going to go on more than one date.”

“I would like that.”

“And it means that when you get sick of America...” Harry's heart felt bigger in a bad way, and he swallowed to keep the feeling down.

“Yes?”“You're not going to get sick of me?” Harry asked.

“Of course I won't!” Louis said, wrapping his clean hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

“I'm boring,” Harry warned him. “I only know, like, three fashion brands.”

Louis smiled. “You still listen to me talk about clothes.”

Jokingly, Harry squinted a little.

“Oh, you little shit!” Louis said, flicking Harry's earlobe. “You only _look_ like you're listening?”

“Sometimes I just watch your lips move. Sometimes my mind just drifts off,” Harry confessed. “But I think I nod and say 'yes' at all the right parts, don't I?”

“Well, that's good enough for me, 'Arry. And you're a science nerd now, aren't you? So I can _pretend_ to listen to you talking about how evolution works.”

“All right,” Harry said happily. There was a pause, and Harry nudged Louis. “Well?”

“Well.” Louis paused. “I want to be with you just as much as you want to be with me. And maybe we can't tell anyone right now, but maybe one day we can tell lots of people.”

“That's it?” Harry confirmed. “I'm your boyfriend?“You are,” Louis confirmed. “But... you're your own person, okay? You don't belong to me.” _My heart does_ , Harry couldn't say out loud. “Hey, about the science stuff?” he asked instead. “Oui?”“I googled places in New York we could go to. The Hall of Science, or the Museum of Natural History?”“Oh my God,” Louis suddenly said, sounding shocked.

“Sorry,” Harry said, not really meaning it. “It was just a suggestion, jeepers. What do you think we should do there, if you've got so many better ideas?”

“No, I -” Louis started trying to push Harry out of his lap, wiping his fingers off on the sheet. “ _New York!_ ”

“What about it?” Harry asked, grounding his knees either side of Louis hips so he couldn't be moved.

“You're not filming today, and now you've got tomorrow off.” Louis gestured like he was waiting for Harry to get up. “We can go to New York _tonight!_ I should have thought of it the minute you came in the door. We'll spend the evening there together - get a good night's sleep, for once,” he added pointedly. “And have our big fancy date tomorrow.”

Harry covered his mouth with both his hands, then lifted them off just a fraction to speak. “Tonight?”

“We don't have to have sex, and we don't even have to go on a date if you change your mind. But let's just get away for a night or two.”

Harry cuffed Louis over the ear. “I'm your boyfriend now, dumbass, of course I want to go on a date with you.”

“So you are!” Louis said, breaking out into that smile that turned his whole face into warm sunshine. “So let's get out of here, away from the whole film crew, just you and me!”

“Can we do that? Are we allowed?”

“It's just a job, 'Arry,” Louis said firmly. “Jeremy can't tell you what you have to do in your free time. If he wants to take your interviews off you, then it's his fault if you decide to do something else with your time.”

Harry giggled.“What?” Louis asked.“I don't know what I'll be doing with my free time, but I know what you'll be doing.” “What's that?”“Me.” Harry tried to keep the smile off his face.

“That's right,” Louis said lowly. He grabbed Harry's bum, pulling him forward a bit, and slid his fingers right back into Harry. Louis must have put three fingers in - Harry could feel himself twitching around it, relaxing into the tight stretch. He put his hand back around both their cocks, although Louis had gotten half-soft while they were talking.

“I swear to God, 'Arry, I'm going to make sure you have the best night of your life,” Louis said – Harry was pleased by how unsteady his voice was, pleased with the way Louis looked at him in amazement. “There's no reason why you can't have everything you want, so start thinking about it now. Whatever you want, it's yours.”

Louis was already getting hard again under Harry's hand.

Harry was too overwhelmed to move his hips up and down any more, he just leant into Louis and let Louis curl his fingers in and out of him as Harry pulled his hand over both of them, bringing them to the same orgasm.

“This is all I want,” Harry said through tight lips, pressing his forehead against Louis' own.

Harry sucked in a few deep breaths, pressing his sweaty skin against Louis', gasping for more air until he came, dripping wet all down his fist, spreading it over both their cocks as he slowed his hand down.

Out of his mind from just coming, he pressed his wet hand against Louis' chest and spoke right in his ear, his voice hoarse and impassioned. “I want to suck you off on the plane.”

“ _'Arry,_ ” Louis admonished, but he was wilting under Harry's hand on his chest and pushing his nose against Harry's neck, trying to get Harry back to where he could kiss him.

“I'm giving you a blowjob on the plane,” Harry insisted. “Fine,” Louis laughed.

“And I want you to come on me now,” Harry added, sitting up off Louis' fingers and wiggling right back down the bed, so he was crouched low in between Louis' legs.

“You're so good, 'Arry.” Louis tilted his neck back in pleasure, leaning against the headboard as Harry took Louis' cock back up in his come-wet hand.

“I want to be good for you,” Harry said. He jerked Louis tight and kept his mouth close to the tip, looking right up at Louis; his eyes had shut, brow pinched in the middle and mouth open slightly, widening as he got closer to coming, breathing heavily.

“You are good,” Louis said feverishly. “ _Mon bon garon,_ make me come, then pack a bag for New York.”

Harry held on tighter and moved his hand faster - Louis grunted and swore and grabbed Harry's hair, pulling him forward. Harry quickly opened his mouth, getting his lips around Louis just in time for Louis to come on his tongue, wet and mildly salty-bitter and just _perfect._

\-----

Louis figured his best bet at appealing to Jeremy would be to take his side. He called him straight away, knowing that while he was on set, he wouldn't want to talk long, and might agree to it more easily than he would have otherwise.

“Louis,” Jeremy answered, mispronouncing his name as always. Louis let it slide – bigger fish to fry.

“I called to check in with the assistants, and they said they're not dressing Harry today,” Louis

“I called to check in with the assistants, and they said they're not dressing Harry today,” Louis started, watching Harry sort through his suitcases for what he'd need overnight.

“There was some scheduling confusion on Linda's end, Harry wasn't actually meant to be filming today.”

“Okay,” Louis said, allowing the tone of his voice to show Jeremy that he knew it was a lie. “What is it?” Jeremy said impatiently.

Louis wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. “Do you think maybe he's getting stressed from working so often?”

“A little, but he can cope,” Jeremy said curtly.

“Well, maybe I can help. I was hoping to get up to New York to sort out some newer wardrobing, I'd intended to talk to Linda about just going for a day trip, but perhaps it would help Harry to get away for a night or two, feel like he's having a proper break?”

“He's got the day off tomorrow, that's enough of a break.”

“ _Oui,_ but – I see how hard you work, even harder than me.” Louis thought it couldn't hurt to flatter Jeremy a bit. “I think Harry's modelling himself off of you. He admires you so much.”

“Really?"

“Absolutely,” Louis assured him, while Harry shot him a disgusted look. “So on his days off, he's still thinking about the next live show, doing research for it, practicing lines. He's young, he's going to burn himself out. Anyway,” Louis said casually, as if it made no difference to him. “He was easy last time I had to go to the city, just stayed in the hotel room while I went out for work. I thought I'd offer since it came to mind, but it would be easier to just go for the day, myself – later on this month, I suppose.”

“Uh...” Jeremy sounded distracted, Louis guessed by whatever was happening on-set. “Yes, take him tonight. Do two nights like last time, back early in the morning for shooting on the farm in Altus. I'll get Linda to sort out the details for you.”

“I can do it,” Louis said. “I'm not doing any other work, it's no trouble to book flights and a hotel.”

“If you're seeing anyone who you're likely to get photographed with, or going anywhere you'll be photographed alone, I don't want Harry with you, okay?”

“Of course.”“I'll – ah, I've really got to get on with this shoot,” Jeremy said. “Linda will be in touch.”

\-----

Relaxing back in his seat in business class, Harry kept an eye on the seatbelt sign until it turned off.He turned to Louis. “Bathroom?”

Louis smiled at him, but it was in apology. “Non, mon petit. We really can't. It's just a bit too risky.”

“It's a lot too risky,” Harry acknowledged. “Sorry, dumb idea.”

“ _Hot_ idea,” Louis said, putting his arm by his side so his fist just touched the side of Harry's thigh. “And I'm sorry to say no. But I have to.”

Harry leant over, resting his head against Louis' shoulder. Louis kissed the top of his head. Harry thought about it for a moment, exactly what would happen to Louis if he was caught with Harry – not just on a plane, but anywhere.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry said. “Of course.”

“I think I'm going to be really nervous tomorrow night and I might be too nervous to ask if you're nervous.”

Louis nodded his head just a fraction as he worked through the sentence, then gave a proper nod, like he got it.

“I'll try,” Harry said. “But promise me you'll speak up about anything, won't you? If you don't want to do it? I swear I'm not going to tell anyone what we do together... But I know you've got a lot more to lose than I do. You don't have to do anything with me. I mean – you have to take me on a date, you're my -” he whispered the next word, “boyfriend. But we don't have to do anything after the date, just because I want to.”

Louis nudged his fist against Harry's thigh. “Thank you. We'll be careful, won't we?”

“Definitely.” Harry nodded. “And you know, like... if anything ever happened, I'd defend you to the death. I don't care if that means me confessing everything about myself.”

“I want to say that's okay, but... _if_ anything ever happened, yeah, I'd need you to do that,” Louis said reluctantly.

“That's what boyfriends are for,” Harry said quietly. “So anyway, since we're not sneaking off to the bathroom...”

“Yes?”

Harry dropped his voice to a whisper, seriously grateful for the hum of the airplane around them. “The next time you come is going to be up my bum.”

“Fuck,” Louis whispered, but it was barely audible over the sound of Louis' iPad suddenly beeping in his satchel. He took it out and silenced it, and smiling in amusement at whatever was on the screen.

“What?” Harry asked.“Look,” Louis said, showing the screen to Harry. There was a reminder on it, _get tested._ “For what?” Harry asked.

“For what?” Harry asked.

“STIs, you know?” Louis said, closing the notification. Harry frowned, feeling a bit yuck. “You have one?”

“No,” Louis said. “That reminder comes up every three months. I had nothing last time, and then, I met you...”

“And before then, what? You were just... whoring around?” “'Arry,” Louis scolded, much louder than they'd been talking before. “Shh.”

“No, you _shh,_ ” Louis said harshly. “It's not a bad thing. It means I'm being responsible about my health, that's it. There's nothing wrong about checking that everything is as it should be, you know? It wouldn't be the end of the world if I did have something anyway.”

“Sorry, I just thought – I don't know what I thought,” Harry said, frustrated with himself. “Bad people get STIs. Good people don't need to get tested for them.”

“Oh, right,” Louis said sarcastically. “Good people never get the flu either, or cavities in their teeth.”

“It's different to that.”“No, it's really not,” Louis said firmly. “Think a bit before you're so judgemental, _merde_.”

“Gosh.” Harry nudged Louis in the side. “I shouldn't have thanked you for going so easy on me, now you're hard-assing it.”

“Good, you can take it!” Louis laughed. “Look, maybe when we get to New York, we can do some reading together about this. I'm gathering your sex ed was lacking.”

“Abstinence only,” Harry confirmed - so much for that.

“Maybe we could go to Planned Parenthood,” Louis mused.

“Romantic.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“If you're mature enough to do it-”

“I'm mature enough to talk about it,” Harry finished for him. “I know.”

“That's right,” Louis said happily. “Although, I think _Modern Missionary spotted at Planned Parenthood NYC_ mightn't be a great headline.”

“I'm sure they have a website,” Harry said in resignation. “I'll read up.”

After they'd collected their luggage at baggage claim, Louis surprised Harry by walking over to a man with a sign saying _J. Squire_ on it.

“Don't worry, I'm not stealing someone else's ride,” Louis laughed, pulling him along. “I just didn't want to use a real name.”

The driver took their bags on a trolley and lead them all the way out to -

“A limousine?!” Harry cried out, slapping Louis on the arm.

“Ow!” Louis laughed, rubbing his bicep. “Look inside, then.”

The driver opened the door and Harry smelled it before he saw it. “Pizza?”

Louis had a self-conscious little smile on his face. “You said you wanted it like _Home Alone 2..._ ”

“I didn't think you knew what I meant!” Harry said happily, getting into the back of the limo and opening up the pizza box.

“I didn't.” Louis slid in next to Harry, and the driver shut the door behind him. “I may have asked Eleanor for a tiny little bit of help.”

Harry looked up in shock, but Louis promised, “Don't worry, no more details than were absolutely necessary.”

“Did you want to go anywhere before your hotel?” the driver asked from his seat. Harry looked up at Louis, waiting for him to answer.

“Museum of Natural History?” Louis asked Harry. “We won't have very long, there's just two hours or so before they close.” Louis took Harry's giant smile as a yes, and repeated the destination to the driver.

“We'll be there in about fifty minutes,” the driver said, and a shiny black partition rolled up, hiding him from view.

 


	24. Chapter 24

They didn't have very long to spend at the Museum of Natural History, so Louis grabbed a brochure and they quickly negotiated with each other over what parts they'd like to see. Harry had to inform Louis that the chances of one of the spiders from the _Spiders Alive!_ exhibition biting him and turning him into Spiderman were incredibly low. Louis muttered something about, “ _Well surely it would be worth a try,_ ” but he followed Harry over to the dinosaurs instead.

Next was ocean life, then meteorites, and then it was a staff member coming over to usher them towards the exit. Louis quickly promised Harry that they could come back the next day to see more of the Museum.  

Harry feigned disinterest in Louis' suggestion. He was relatively certain he'd be just as happy staying inside the hotel, in bed with Louis, for the next two days straight. Nothing but giggles and kisses and blanket forts.

“There's something special I want to get us for dinner tonight,” Louis informed Harry out on the street.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, waiting for more information.

Louis didn't let on too much. “I packed the wine from my parents' farm. There's something I want to buy here that will go well with it. Do you mind if we go down to Grand Central Market and then double back to the hotel?”

“Lead the way,” Harry permitted.

He was a little surprised when Louis took his hand and lead him towards the stairs that ran down to the subway. He thought Louis was a bit too fancy for public transport – then again, he was also so cool, the type of cool who could navigate the New York subway system like it wasn't a bewildering haze of numbers and coloured lines.

Gosh, Louis was so _cool_ and he was _Harry's boyfriend._

Louis bought Harry a metro card before he could realise what was happening. He tried to give Louis money for it, but Louis turned him down. Harry instead waited until Louis was distracted, and pushed the note right into Louis' jeans pocket - an innocent move until Louis went, “ _Ooh,_ ” and briefly sashayed his hips.

“What's at the market, then?” Harry asked as they waited on the platform. Louis just smiled knowingly as the train pulled in.

Once they got onto the subway car, he sat down next to Harry and wrapped an arm around him. “You know there's a legend about another line,” he said in a low, dramatic voice. “On the six, there's this station that looks like a church. Coloured tiles and this domed glass ceiling. It's closed off to the public, but they say if you stay on past the last stop, you can see it before the train loops back around. It sounds right up your alley, doesn't it? Sneaking into church-like buildings after hours.”

“Well? Is it a real thing?” Harry asked. “Or is it just a legend?”

Louis mysteriously kept his mouth shut for a moment, but then he chuckled. “Ah, it's no good now, with Facebook and shit. Everyone's taken photos from inside the train looking out, and put them on their blogs. It's real. Maybe we can go see it tomorrow. But tonight, we're on a different train that's taking us to Murray's Cheese,” Louis finally revealed. “So you'll get to eat the best cheese in the entire world.”

“I've had it already,” Harry reminded Louis. “Cheese from a can while I sat with you in a field.” “We don't talk about that,” Louis replied, giving a small frown and shake of his head.

“You loved it!” Harry laughed. “Don't pretend you didn't. You practically ate the whole can.”

“Never happened,” Louis insisted. “I guarantee you this cheese will be a million times better. You won't even consider that canned stuff cheese any more. Murray's,” Louis announced, and then paused for dramatic effect. “Sells cheese from my parent's farm.”

“Oh, that's so cool!” Harry said excitedly. “Do you get it a lot when you're in New York?”

“No,” Louis said, an abashed little smile on his face. “Never, actually. But I called them and they promised they have it in stock. Why would I buy it here when I can just get it when I'm home? For free? But...” Louis leant in a little, giving Harry a poke on the chest. His finger lingered there though, bending a fraction to give Harry a tiny stroke.

If Harry wasn't mistaken, he'd just traced a tiny heart onto his skin.

“You're special enough to me that you know I grew up on a farm and you're special enough that you deserve the very best, so until I can take you to eat it right where it's made, I'm taking you to Murray's.”

As they navigated the market, Louis babbled to Harry about cheese. It wasn't the same as the way he talked about fashion; discussing cheese he was less passionate, more matter-of-fact. He explained that his parent's cheeses were _Fermier,_ made on the same farm that the milk was from. He talked about _Morbier_ that their staff still laboriously made the traditional way – a layer of the last milk of the evening, separated by a sprinkling of ash, and the first milk of the morning on top. He said he'd get them goat's milk _Bûcheron_ and Harry could see how well it goes with grapes, some _Coulommiers_ that has the most beautiful pink blush in its rind, “Like you, 'Arry, with your pretty pink lips and rosy cheeks,” and some _Chaubier_ that's half goat's milk and half cow's. Without a trace of humility, Louis informed Harry that his parents' farm made the best _Raclette_ in all of France, “But we won't get that today because it's for melting, bit beyond the amenities of a hotel room.”

Harry only had so much of an attention span for discussions of cheese. Not that he didn't love the sound of Louis' voice, but – _cheese_ , really? When they walked past an organic fruit shop, Harry saw an easy escape. He offered to get the grapes and then meet back up with Louis.

“Red grapes,” Louis dictated. “Some green apples, too.”

They paused in front of the stands of fruit and Louis looked like he was mentally calculating the best way to say goodbye. Weighing up his options.

Harry relieved him of the internal debate. “I'll see you in a bit,” he muttered awkwardly, turning away to face the fruit.

He selected a few apples, feeling sullen – how many times had he seen one of his parents quickly duck off to do something? They _always_ gave each other a quick kiss goodbye. And Harry and Louis did do that, before they went to work at different times, or when one went into the shower. Never in public, though. Only in hotels. As Harry bagged up some grapes, he decided it was completely, totally unfair.

They had fresh flowers by the register, with that gorgeous botanical scent thickening the air around them. A month ago Harry might have said his hand just reached out on its own accord and snatched one up, but it wasn't like that at all, really.

It wasn't enough for Harry if Louis was only his within the confines of a hotel room.

Plus, he kind of wondered if his place in heaven would be in jeopardy after he had sex, and then what would he have left?

Harry wanted to have sex. He wanted it so much. He used to want things in a bad way; like how he would get in a mood he hadn't asked for, and want to masturbate, and feel so deeply ashamed of his desire that that he almost hated himself. When the need got bad enough he'd finally give in, get it over with quick. He wouldn't touch himself for a week or more afterwards, praying for forgiveness every hour, wondering if something bad was going to happen because he was a sinner.

This wasn't like that at all. This was good. Harry liked how unabashedly he wanted it with Louis - he was ready, Louis was too. Everything with Louis felt safe and right... but not necessarily Christian. Maybe it really was okay, but it wasn't _the_ most guaranteed way to get into heaven.

Their fumbled separation was still sitting uncomfortably in Harry's gut. If Harry didn't have a place in heaven, Louis might be all he had. So he had to be Harry's everywhere, not just inside hotels late at night. Why couldn't Louis be his inside the market as well? Harry wanted to buy his boyfriend a rose.

\-----

A small bundle of cheeses in his arm, Louis turned back into the market, scanning the crowd for Harry. He finally spotted him and gave a small wave. Harry saw him, but didn't start making his way over. As Louis got closer he saw Harry was hiding his hands behind his back.

When Louis was within ten feet of him, Harry suddenly dropped to one knee and for a wild split- second Louis thought Harry had gone crazy and was about to _propose -_ but then from behind his back he revealed a flower; a single, white rose.

Louis stopped dead in his tracks, which perhaps wasn't the smartest thing to do. The passersby that had noticed Harry kneeling on the floor now seemed to sense someone else had stopped moving in response to the teen. A few other people had now paused too, to form a crowd that was waiting in curiosity to see what would happen next.

Louis thought New Yorkers were supposed to have seen it all before and remain unphazed by anything. Why tonight, of all nights, Grand Central Market had to be filled with New York's true romantics was anyone's guess.

He couldn't help it, his head was spinning. Harry was earnest, yes, becoming sweeter and bolder with the things he whispered while they were cosy (or worse) in bed together. But here Harry was, in New York City, buying roses, in _public_. This wasn't nothing. This was big.

Watching Louis' hesitancy, Harry's enormous smile started to falter.

Louis rushed over to him and wrapped his hands over Harry's so they were both holding the rose, and he pulled Harry up to stand. He kept his hands there and smiled at Harry wordlessly for a moment, until Harry's smile got big again with that enormous dimple in his cheek. In front of everyone, in front of people who had actually _stopped to watch them_ , Louis kissed Harry right on the lips. He kissed Harry the way he should be kissed: nose grazing Harry's cheek as he smiled against his skin for a beat before pressing his lips against Harry's, kissing his top lip, his bottom lip, and the corner of his mouth. Harry tried to find Louis' tongue, but Louis had to exercise heart- breaking self control and draw back.

Louis heard just a few people clapping, but thankfully it seemed like a simple kiss was anticlimactic against whatever the New Yorkers had hoped to witness. The small crowd rapidly dispersed.

Harry twisted his hands out from Louis' so he could pass the rose over to him. “It's for you.” “ _Merci Beaucoup pour la rose!_ ” Louis said as he rolled the stem in his fingers, watching the petals twirl. “You're so thoughtful _mon petit._ Where'd this idea come from?”

“You didn't kiss me before you went off to get cheese,” Harry reprimanded him.

“I'm sorry,” Louis said. He'd honestly considered it, he'd just -

“It's okay, I know why,” Harry said begrudgingly. “It just didn't feel like how I wanted the day before our date-day to feel.”

“I didn't know I could kiss you. Or if I should,” Louis said honestly as they made their way out. “I wanted to, though. Moment of cowardice. You're brave though, doing that in front of everyone.” He lifted his rose a little, showing it to Harry. “Aren't I lucky to have you?”

They'd only just made it back onto the street when Louis faintly heard a shout. “ _That's him!_ ” He turned his head to see a group of teenagers practically sprinting towards them.

“Merde. _Merde._ I – shit,” Louis started. He didn't want to leave Harry on the side of the road without a plan, but they were getting close. “Stay here,” he quickly ordered. “Call me - get a cab back to the hotel.”

\-----

Louis all but ran off and before Harry could wonder what exactly had just happened, he got his answer – four girls ran up to him and actually _screamed_ in excitement, shouting his name and saying they loved him and asking for photographs.

Harry didn't quite know what to say back – they were very loud, almost panicking at the sight of him, and he wished they'd calm down. He was just a person. Same as them. But they were kind too, very complimenting. Huge fans of _Modern Missionary_. He was flattered.

As Harry smiled for their pictures, a few more people recognised him and stopped. They wanted to meet him too, and tell him how much they loved the show. Harry kept smiling, saying _thank you_ and _God bless._ He was grateful, it was exciting – but he also felt scared and alone in a part of New York City that he'd never been to before. He wasn't even sure he knew how to hail a cab.

He managed to excuse himself, but hadn't walked half a block before he heard another shout, “Oh my gosh, he _is_ here!” and more girls came up running.

 _Girls, girls, girls,_ Harry thought dully.During more photos, one of them breathlessly explained that people had tweeted his whereabouts.

“I thought it was just stupid rumours!” she squealed. “I can't believe it's really you!”

Harry didn't let himself believe he'd been successful in escaping until he hailed a taxi and was sat inside. As it made its way through the honking traffic, Harry searched his name on Twitter.

It was incredibly strange seeing so many different users with his own face as their icons. They were all talking about him and the show, saying all sorts of things.

He soon came across some of the photos he'd just taken with people – gosh, they'd got them up there fast. One of the accounts that had posted a photo of them together had also tweeted saying she had spotted him with Louis.

_With Louis._

Heart racing, he searched _Harry styles kissing,_ but there didn't seem to be anything about him and Louis from that day. There weren't any photos of the two of them together, thank goodness. Just of Harry himself.

He thought to search Louis' name alone, and it was a good thing he did – someone had taken a photo of Louis, that kind of poor quality that looks zoomed-in from a bit far back. He was standing up on the subway, staring into nowhere, holding the white rose up to his nose and smelling it.

Harry giggled for a minute. Louis was so cute.

He didn't quite know how to estimate the intelligence of the audience, though. People had tweeted that he and Louis were in New York City together, and then there were photos of them in NYC separately to almost certainly confirm it.

Harry honestly didn't know if it was completely obvious that the rose was from Harry, or if no one would ever draw that conclusion in a million years. It definitely couldn't be from or for Eleanor, not if she was back in Arkansas.

Louis met Harry down in the lobby of the hotel. For someone who'd specifically requested the Plaza, Harry paid no attention to it. How could he? He couldn't take his eyes away from Louis, who had showered and changed into a top that showed off his collarbones and was leaning against a wall with his hip jutting out. Harry just wanted to _lick_ his neck, right there in front of everyone.

He settled for just a smile and a nudge as they walked towards the elevators. It had gotten quite late and Harry was definitely hungry by then, hoping the cheese Louis bought wasn't too weird or stinky to be enjoyable.

The elevator had an attendant, so Harry had to wait even longer before kissing Louis.

He forgot all about it when Louis opened the door to their hotel room. It was far nicer than anything they'd stayed in for Modern Missionary – gosh, it was divine. There was plush blue carpet and rich red walls, and framing large windows were white curtains with sparkling gold thread running through them. There was chairs around a dining table that had Louis' single rose in a vase on it – and further into the suite, an enormous circular loveseat flanked by a C-shaped coffee table.

The carpeted floor moved up into a platform that the bed was on. It seemed very prophetic, the bed practically raised up on a stage. It was perfect: a wooden four-poster frame with heavy curtains tied open to each post. If they wanted to hide away they wouldn't even have to build a blanket fort, they could just draw the curtains around the bed and keep the rest of the world at bay.

Through the bedroom was the bathroom, with a spa bath that could easily fit four people in it. There was a toilet and even a bidet, and all the faucets were shining gold. The countertops were swirling pale marble. It was far nicer than any hotel Harry had ever seen before – even more luxurious than their suite in Vegas.

“You didn't spend too much on this room, did you?” Harry asked, worried. It was already adding up – subway tickets, cheese, the hotel.

“ _Mon chéri!_ ” Louis firmly took Harry's hand and lead him back out into the main room. “Two nights away with you is worth all the money in the world.” That was the end of the matter; Louis changed the subject. “The driver brought our bags back here, by the way. I unpacked for you,” Louis said, in a voice thick with a fondness that made Harry smile into his own shoulder. “You realise all you packed was a pair of jeans, a few of my old Stone Roses t-shirts, and a couple of _my_ sweaters?”

“That's what I like wearing!” Harry protested, giggling at himself. “Your stuff. You have a problem with that?”

“Not in the slightest,” Louis said decisively. “You're so, so cute.” “I'll be stealing your Spiderman tops next,” Harry teased.

“You know I'd let you,” Louis said sincerely. He placed a gentle hand on Harry's cheek. “'Arry. You know right now you can have anything you want. You can wear anything of mine.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you.”Louis carried on with the world's most angelic smile on his face. “But as soon as you're taller than me, once those shoulders of yours broaden up, you keep your dirty hands off my clothes. I'll fucking kill you if you stretch my clothes out,” he finished just as sweetly.

Harry tried to give Louis' shoulder a shove, but he was laughing so hard he missed. He knew it was true, too – Louis would probably _buy_ Harry any clothes he wanted, but he so definitely would _not_ let Harry borrow anything if he was going to damage it.

Harry tried to picture the same Harry that Louis was picturing. A broad-shouldered guy with muscular arms, puppy fat melted away to reveal long legs. Nineteen years old, maybe, or even twenty. Maybe he'd still have a boyfriend. Maybe Louis would be stealing _his_ t-shirts, looking extra petite in loose fabric.

“Now.” Louis interrupted Harry's daydreaming. “Are you going to come sit with me on the couch and let me hand-feed you cheese? Like a little mouse? _Ma petite souris?_ ”

\-----

Louis spread out the cheeses on a wooden platter he'd got from room service. Earlier, he'd turned the temperature of the minibar fridge right down and slightly chilled the wine. He retrieved it now, pouring it into glasses that sat on the coffee table in front of the loveseat. He cut Harry's apples into segments, too. Then he put the grapes to the side of the platter.

He took in the sight of it all laid out.

Louis had eaten wine and cheese a hundred times before in America. It probably all looked the same, really, but Louis liked to think he could tell that this was his parents' cheese and wine, from the farm he grew up on, and it looked different - out-of-place in America. He had shared both with people in Paris, but in a casual way. _Let me see what I've got in my fridge._

It had never been about family and history.

Louis looked over at Harry, ruminating on the sight of him. Harry just sat in front of him, allowing himself to be watched. Louis was painfully aware that he should be making conversation, but he couldn't bring himself to talk. He just wanted to take Harry in like a picture, in silence.

He didn't know how Harry did it. How he was an enormous dork and such a heartbreaker all at once. The kid could clumsily fall over on stage and then stand up again the epitome of grace, looking like a greek statue or an angel. His brown curls were like a tangled, overgrown bush that fell heavy over his right ear. And his green eyes, the way he looked at Louis – currently with apparent patience, seemingly waiting out Louis' assessment. His lips, his fucking _lips,_ the way they seemed to pout over every word he said, wrapping over each syllable, the way they wrapped over _Louis,_ his lips, his fingers, his cock...

Louis turned the small cheese knife over in his hand.

The whole reason they were in New York was because Harry wanted to give himself to Louis. Louis had paid for a nicer hotel than their work would cover. He'd ordered them clothes, thrown around his name and his money to get them tailored practically overnight. He'd poured over menus and booked a restaurant for the following evening.

If Harry had needed three times that to feel like it was the right night to lie down naked in a bed with Louis, then Louis would have done it all in a heartbeat. Somehow it still didn't seem like enough. Harry was happy, definitely content - but god, if he didn't deserve the whole world.

Harry broke out into a smile. He was so gorgeous, all white teeth and glittering eyes. His dimple was ridiculous, Louis could hardly believe it was real. Of course Harry was picked for Modern Missionary; he belonged on posters. Louis wondered how many bedroom walls that smile was tacked up on – how many bedrooms here in New York alone.

Louis had the real deal, in front of him. Every single day.

Harry blinked at him and then sniffed. “I love you, but I haven't eaten since the plane,” he said, leaning in, gentle insistence as he gestured at the cheese platter. “Can we...?”

“Sorry,” Louis laughed softly to himself. He tore his eyes away and hastily reached for a piece of apple, passing it to Harry to eat while he cut up some cheese.

“Here,” Louis said, holding up a twin piece in each hand. He put one in Harry's mouth, and kept the other in his hand while he watched.

Harry moaned loudly, wide-eyed. “I don't want to swallow,” he said thickly, fingers over his lips. “It's so good.”

“No, that's right,” Louis said quickly, silly in how proud he was. “You should let it crumble in your mouth for a moment.”

Harry shut his eyes and tilted his head back. His jaw moved in minor increments as he rolled the cheese over his tongue. Louis took Harry's closed eyes as an opportunity to beam at him like an idiot, until Harry opened them again. Louis quickly popped his own piece of cheese in his mouth, too busy fighting his smile to be able to even chew properly.

“You look happy.” Harry teased. “Is this the secret to cracking through the sassy French thing? Cheese?”

Louis didn't look at Harry when he replied, but instead busied himself with untangling a few grapes from the vine, then slicing up a different cheese. “I'm happy because I'm here with you. Now, let this one melt on your tongue before you swallow it. Then take a sip of the wine – it's a 1990 bottle, you see?”

Harry looked at the label. “It's older than me.”

Louis wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Thanks. I was going to tell you that I helped out in the vineyards sometimes as a child. I probably picked some of the grapes that went into the bottle. Now you've gone and made it weird.”

“Good weird?” Harry offered. “Worth all the weird in the world if I get to sit here drinking a _1990 bottle of wine?_ ” He picked up his glass, snooty pinkie out, making a show of smelling it.

“Always good with you, mon petit,” Louis agreed.

\-----

Louis was tipsy; Harry could tell by the way he was carefully placing his wine glass on the table, the way his eyes seemed a little unfocussed, but most of all by his hands. He was touching Harry's arms as he talked, pressing his palm against Harry's thighs when he laughed. He'd slide his fingers in past the point of a friendly touch, raking over Harry's inner thighs, and sometimes he just let his words trail off and he stared at Harry, clumsily combing his fingers through Harry's curls. He picked the fleur de lis off Harry's skin and absentmindedly pulled it back and forth across the chain it hung from as he talked.

Harry didn't mind at all - Louis should drink five more bottles of the stuff, he should get totally drunk and grabby and manhandle Harry right through the evening. It was so nice to be affirmed physically. Saying the word 'boyfriend' was one thing, holding hands under a blanket was another, but this was _your body is here and I need to touch it,_ Louis' hands meeting Harry at every point, far more often than he did sober. Harry had never felt so close to someone.

Harry found himself giving into it too, slinging his legs over one of Louis' knees, running his fingertips over the fabric of Louis' pants, leaning his shoulder into Louis' side.

It was nice to be cuddly and relaxed and a little bit wine-y, because Harry knew in contrast he'd be nervous tomorrow night, borderline terrified about how final it all seemed. That would be it. He wouldn't be a virgin any more. He would have had sex – gay sex. In just a day's time, everything would be different. He wanted it to be different.

“Do you think after tomorrow people will be able to tell that I'm not a virgin anymore?” he asked Louis.

“No,” Louis said, sure but gentle. “Unless you want them to, of course. We could tattoo it right over your ass.” Louis snuck a hand under Harry's shirt and traced it with his finger as he slowly sounded the words out. “ _Louis was here._ ”

Harry was tipsy too. Enough so that he felt aware of it. He felt even more clumsy than usual and didn't want to do something embarrassing. The wine was the nicest he'd ever tasted and he had drank it up happily, forgetting it was _wine_ , and now his mouth kept turning his consonants on shuffle. The cheese was – not even cheese as Harry knew it, but as he ate another slice of one of the softer ones he decided he could never go back to Kraft Singles. And this wine was better than sweet iced tea and the organic grapes were better than the fake-grape jelly he used to have in sandwiches and really _everything_ was better with Louis in New York, so why ever go back to Texas at all?

Harry took another sip from his glass, clumsily moving his hand away too soon, and he felt wine spilling down his chin. He tried to wipe himself off but Louis practically head-butted his hand away, licking fast lines over Harry's neck, humming in pleasure – probably at the wine just as much as the physical contact.

Harry was tipsy enough to want to spill more wine over his skin for Louis to lick up, but sober enough to know he wasn't nearly smooth enough for that to go as planned. He'd probably accidentally dump the whole glass right onto the couch.

Wouldn't be the first hotel couch they'd messed up, Harry smugly recalled.

Harry just sighed back into the seat, hips twitching as Louis kissed his neck.

Louis soon drew away though, hands on Harry's chest like he'd had to forcefully push himself back. “I can't stop thinking about what you said. About me coming inside that perfect ass of yours.” He breathed out, steadying himself, then set a boundary; “But that's for tomorrow night, when neither of us have had anything to drink. I don't want to do anything tonight but kiss.”

“Then let's go out, Louis!” Harry suggested, tongue slipping over those tricky t's and s's. Louis was being so lovely and physical, maybe making up for the times in public when they couldn’t be like that. Harry didn't want to keep building a deficit and then making up for it. He wanted Louis' hand on his thigh in public.

Louis just vehemently said, “ _Mon petit._ ” “That's not an answer.”

Louis' hands moved over Harry's thighs – not with their usual familiarity but with a wonderful fumbling tipsiness, totally carefree, like he might fall right over and crash straight into Harry.

“Can't we go to that bar again?” Harry coaxed.

Louis stilled his hands, frowned for a moment, then his face lit up like he was remembering. “Not a chance, noodle-hair, that's way too far from here.”

“Another bar, then,” Harry said. “Closer by.”

“I thought we were supposed to have an early night tonight,” Louis reminded him. “Anyway, I only know gay bars.”

Harry grabbed Louis' face in one hand, pulling his cheeks in so his lips got all smooshed together in a fish face. “I'm gay,” he said in a loud whisper, a fake-secret. “So gay I've got a boyfriend. Stick-it-up-my-butt-tomorrow-night gay. Take-me-to-a-gay-bar- _tonight_ gay.”

“You are drunk!” Louis announced, pulling his head back out of Harry's grip. “We simply can't.”

“I am moderately stips - tispy.” Harry said in a somewhat weak defence. “And we both know you're going to take an hour to choose an outfit, so I'll be sober again by the time we leave.”

Louis swung a leg over Harry, pulling himself up onto Harry's lap. He stayed pushed up on his knees so his chest was in Harry's eyeline, and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He even slipped a hand underneath the fabric, stroking his fingertips over his skin. “You want to watch me changing my clothes?” he asked in a low voice.

Harry swallowed. “Yes.”

Louis kept unbuttoning until he reached the hem of his shirt. He left it hanging open from his shoulders as he trailed one delicate hand up, lightly pinching his own nipple.

Harry could have fainted. Instead he lunged forward, mouth to Louis' other nipple, licking over it. Louis gasped, grinding his hips down against Harry's crotch.

“We can't drink any more if we go out,” Louis dictated, hand dropping to his own crotch.

Harry pulled back to watch Louis squeezing the hard outline of his cock through his pants. It made Harry deliciously nervous to look at it – it was right there, it was real, and Louis was more than capable of sticking that cock in places.

“And no glory holes!” Louis added, giggling.

“Fine,” Harry said. As Louis rocked his hips, Harry felt his own underwear drag over the wet tip of his cock. “Let's go to a nightclub, I just want to dance with you,” he said, which wasn't the whole truth – but if that was all he was allowed to do after two and a half glasses of wine, it was enough.

Louis shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. Even tipsy, he still rebuttoned it, then folded it perfectly and lay it gently over the back of the couch.

Harry knew Louis wouldn’t do much when they'd been drinking, but the part of his brain that his dick controlled was still hoping. He wasn't expecting Louis to just hunch down and slide his arms under Harry's, though. He wrapped them tight around Harry's waist and lay his head down on Harry's shoulder. Harry could feel Louis' eyelashes batting against his neck.

“ _Ce fromage, te plaît-il?_ ” he asked softly. His chest was so warm against Harry's t-shirt. Harry could feel both their hearts beating.

Harry knew _'fromage'_ and _'plaît'_ , and maybe Louis really did want to know if Harry liked the cheese, or maybe he was just trying sentences he knew Harry could understand _._ “Yes,” Harry replied.

“And the wine?” Louis added.“Yes.” Harry stretched the word out in emphasis.

“You might like to come see where it's made one day?” Louis asked meekly as he rubbed his thumbs over Harry's back. He seemed to shy away from the possible answer then, sitting up and changing the subject. “Okay, we can go out to a club. A bar would be better, actually. Even if it's not really for dancing.”

“We can dance anywhere, Louis,” Harry said, walking his fingers up Louis' bicep. “In a bar where they're not even playing music. Or back in France in a field of cows,” he said pointedly, not wanting to let Louis' question slip.

Louis kissed Harry's cheek. “The romantic words of a boy who's never stepped in cow shit,” he said delicately. “You need to change, too.”

\-----

Louis took Harry in a cab to a bar that was a little dark and a lot noisy. There was a bouncer that clicked his tongue at the sight of Harry and asked, “ID?” like he already knew full well that Harry didn't have one. Louis was so swift Harry almost missed it, but he just caught the tiniest flash of a folded bill under Louis' small hand. The bouncer nodded them through.

Harry felt uncomfortable once they were inside, it was loud and busy with lots of people and unfamiliar music.

Then Louis pulled him in by the hips and whispered in his ear, “You look so good in that shirt. Do you want a drink?”

Louis was his and he was Louis' and he was in a bar, with his boyfriend's hands on his hips. Harry would gladly put up with music twice as loud if it was Louis' excuse to be so close to him in public.

“Can I try a shot? Will you show me how?” Harry asked in return. It was hard to sound sweet and coaxing when he was half-yelling it.

“Not a chance,” Louis laughed. “I thought you'd like a Coke, or a lemonade? Red Bull?” Harry accepted the latter.Louis guided him up to the bar, ordering Harry's Red Bull and something for himself, too.

The bartender came back with Harry's blue and silver can, but then placed a single shotglass on the bar and poured out some golden liquor into it.

“That's just _mean_ , Louis,” Harry protested. Louis just silenced him with his odd French hand- wave and paid for the drinks.

Louis' eyes scanned the large room for a moment. In one fluid motion, he tossed the shot back into his mouth and then grabbed Harry's face and kissed him, messily sharing half the drink with him. It burned Harry's mouth a tiny bit, in a nice sort of way, soothed by Louis' tongue against his own. Harry wasn't sure what he was tasting, too preoccupied with not letting any of it dribble out. _Far_ too preoccupied with how what Louis was doing what was probably the sexiest thing anyone could ever think of doing at a bar and Harry was feeling _good_ far past just his mouth. Harry kissed him back, lips and liquor, rough stubble and gentle hands.

Louis pulled away and swallowed what he had left. Harry did too, then opened his can of Red Bull, trying to breathe again. “So that's how you do a shot?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Louis.

“Thirteen men have checked you out in the ten minutes we've been here,” Louis said testily, unconsciously placing a hand on his own hip. “Now they know you're here with me.”

Harry turned out to look in surprise. It had never occurred to Harry. _Other_ men. He couldn't see anyone looking at him with any great intensity though.

When he turned back, Louis had an expectant smirk on his face. “Anyone you like?” he asked sarcastically. “Should I change tomorrow's reservation to a table for three?”

Harry just kept turning until he was facing the bar, leaning his elbows up against it.

Louis immediately placed a hand on Harry's back, leaning in. “Sorry. Are you okay? You don't like it here?”

“I like it here and I like that I'm with the best looking guy in the bar,” Harry said firmly against the music. “I don't care what anyone else in here is looking at. I've only got eyes for you.”

Louis rubbed his hand over Harry's back, happy - but then he leant in closer, peering at Harry.

“Just, like – give me a sec, will you?” Harry stammered out, nodding downwards as if they could see through the bartop to his crotch.

Louis stepped behind him, holding Harry's waist. “Are you hard?” he murmured into Harry's ear. “You like sharing shots with me?”

“See for yourself,” Harry challenged him.

Louis' hands tightened over Harry's sides instead of creeping down. “Don't tempt me.”

“Can we share another shot, then?” Harry wheedled. “Something sweet?”

“You'll be sick,” Louis laughed, stepping back to Harry's side. “And isn't that counter-productive to what we're stuck by the bar waiting for?”

Harry gave himself a quick pat – good enough - and turned back to face Louis, rolling his eyes. “I'm fine. On both fronts – I'm not even drunk.”

“Dance with me first?” Louis asked.

Harry agreed. As Louis lead him away from the bar, he pointed a finger up to the ceiling, victorious.

“What?” Harry had to practically shout as Louis began to step in front of him to the beat. “You'd _have_ to be drunk to agree to dance in public,” Louis said. “You're cut off for the night.”

“I got down on one knee for you today,” Harry reminded him, moving to the music too. “Totally sober, in broad daylight. I'm braver than you think.”

Louis smiled and grabbed Harry's hand as he danced, interlocking their fingers and tugging him closer. “You are, _mon petit._ ”

“I wasn't before I met you,” Harry went on, dancing in a way that definitely broke the ten-inch- gap rule they'd always had at youth group socials. “You make me strong.”

“You're good at getting what you want.”“I'm not saying it so you get another shot,” Harry insisted. “I'm just letting you know.”

“I think we keep saying nice things to each other because we know tomorrow's a big night,” Louis said loudly into Harry's ear. “You think we'll still be like this once tomorrow night's over? Back at work?”

“I hope so. We'll have to make up a code so no one knows what we're saying.”

“Sign language,” Louis suggested.

“I like that idea,” Harry said happily. He liked it a lot.

“I know you, 'Arry Styles,” Louis said sternly, dancing in even closer. “The first word you'll learn is ' _blowjob'_.”

\-----

The sun was almost rising when Louis scooped Harry up and hailed them a cab back to the hotel. Harry seemed more tired than tipsy, though. His hair was limp with sweat from dancing and he looked ecstatic. Louis' heart could hardly handle it. It was just your average local bar but Harry acted like Louis had taken him to the moon.

Louis tossed Harry three bottles of water from the mini-fridge, starting on one himself. “I'll wet the bed,” Harry joked, but he unscrewed the cap and started drinking anyway. “If you're hungover tomorrow it will clash with the plans I've made,” Louis hinted. “I'm fine,” Harry insisted, and Louis did believe him. “So what plans have you made?” “Dinner,” Louis said simply.

“Dinner?”

“Nice dinner,” Louis rushed to add. “And you say the word, I'll get us tickets to Broadway, I'll find a proper dancing club, I'll hire a fucking personal clown, whatever you want.” Louis got momentarily distracted by the way Harry was sucking on the bottle of water, then continued. “I just can't imagine after dinner I'll want to do anything other than come back here with you.”

“I never liked the theatre anyway,” Harry agreed, obviously lying. “It'll be straight back home for you and I.”

“Finish your water,” Louis said. “We'll have a shower and I can shave you if you want, and then we'll get to bed. _Finally_. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“With you?”

“I've got to do _some_ work while I'm here,” Louis said wryly. “Busy, busy morning for me tomorrow so I have something to show Jeremy when we get back.”

Louis paused, looking at Harry, trying to see what a stranger might see. Maybe he'd been totally gross at the bar.“Should I have let you talk to other guys there tonight?” he asked, guilt twisting in his stomach.

“They _were_ checking you out. But I didn't mean to be all... vulgar and territorial.” “You were great,” Harry said warmly.“Promise?”

“Louis, I was hiding a hard-on. I liked what you did. I liked that you kept everyone else away from me. It's a nice thought, but... I think it would have been a bit much. I want gay friends, maybe. But definitely not a new boyfriend.”

“You know I trust you,” Louis said sincerely. “I just don't trust other men.”

\-----

When Harry woke up in the morning, Louis wasn't behind him in the same position they'd fallen asleep in. He was fully dressed and standing by the bed, placing a black envelope on the side table.

Harry yawned. “Good morning. Where've you been?”

“Paradise,” Louis said dreamily, flopping down beside Harry. “I'm honestly so impressed. Two of the nicest outfits I've ever seen and they were made so quickly.”

“Our clothes?” Harry asked.

“'Arry,” Louis moaned. “They're not just clothes. They're art.”

“Calm down.” Harry nudged Louis.

“You'll see.” Louis rolled in, kissing Harry slowly, waking up his tired mouth. “Are you hungry, mon petit?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Is there cheese left over?”

“ _Oui,_ but you'll get constipated if you eat two meals of only cheese.” Louis joked.

“Worth it.”

“If you don't shit today,” Louis said, getting back up off the bed. “Then it will be a movie on the couch and an early night tonight.”

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry whined, covering his face with a pillow. “That's disgusting.” “That's life, mon petit. Order some real breakfast.”“I love you,” Harry said though the pillow. “So much that I'll eat veggies for you.”

“Love you too,” Louis said, giving Harry's head a little push through the pillow. “I'm going to write a little to-do list and then I'll be off again.”

He left the room, and a moment later Harry heard the light scrape of one of the dining chairs being pulled back, and Louis sitting down.

Harry wasn't meaning to snoop. He thought the black envelope was meant for him, that it was a letter from Louis, or a poem, something that Louis was too shy to hand straight over to him.

He picked up the envelope and inside it was thick paper, expensive: a shiny pearl colour that Harry unfolded – not carefully enough, as he got a papercut. He sucked on his finger and continued one-handed.

The writing inside was computer printed and in the top corner it was addressed to Louis, not Harry. It was an itemised receipt and Harry _knew_ it wasn't his to look at but there was a number down the bottom that Harry's eyes couldn't help but find, and then he did a double-take in horror.

It was enough digits to put Harry and his sister through college, probably with twin Range Rovers each. It had to be a misprint, or maybe they'd accidentally overcharged Louis. It was insane.

Harry got out of the bed, walking brusquely to the dining table. He shoved the sheet into Louis' hand.

“Look.”

Louis' eyes scanned over the paper, concentrating for just a second before looking up at Harry expectantly. “You open my mail now?” he asked cheerily. “How delightfully domestic!”

“I thought it was for me,” Harry muttered.

“It had my name on the front,” Louis laughed, tongue on his teeth. He folded the page back up and tapped Harry on the nose with it. “You should order some breakfast.”

“That's how much our clothes for tonight cost?” Harry asked, not allowing Louis to drop the subject.

“Oui,” Louis said. He looked back down at the table, tapping his pen on the list he was writing. “Did they print it right?” Harry pushed. “Or did you buy something else?”“ _Non,_ just our clothes,” Louis said carefully.“Two outfits? Is that American dollars?!”

Louis laughed, looking back up at Harry sheepishly this time. “They're custom, 'Arry, and they were made in about a week. That timeframe doesn't come cheap.”

“I could get a _house_ built in a week for that!” Harry protested. “Louis, you didn't have to rush- order it, you should have said something. We could have done this later on. I shouldn't have made such a big fuss about a proper big fancy date. You can buy a nice shirt for a lot less money.”

Louis silenced Harry by standing up and swinging an arm around his shoulder, the paper in his hand right by Harry's chin. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it.

“ _Mon petit,_ don't you for one second think you're not worth it.”

That made Harry feel even worse. He wasn't worth it, he was a clumsy virgin who would probably grow out of those clothes in half a year. “Oh my gosh. You've got to take them back. That's way too much money, this is stupid.”

“Mon garçon,” Louis said firmly, then with a wink he added, “Mon _petit-ami._ This is about making you feel special. _Non,_ actually - this is about _me._ It makes me happy that I'm able to do the things that make you feel special. I want to make you happy.”

“We're going to get married in potato sacks,” Harry huffed. “And our children won't go to college. We won't even be able to send them to _school._ ”

“I can afford it, okay?” Louis said. “It's not a problem. The clothes, I mean,” he quickly added. “I can afford – I mean... Anyway. I don't want you to feel any differently, okay? You weren't supposed to see this.”

“I'm sorry I snooped.”“Read the front of an envelope next time you open it,” Louis advised. “It's okay, though. Better this way. Cards on the table, _oui?_ No secrets between us.”“No secrets,” Harry agreed.Louis sat back down and passed the paper to Harry. “Put that back. Then _eat._ ”

Harry turned to leave, but he was stopped by Louis who had swooped back up and grabbed him, resting his chin over Harry's shoulder. “You know it's not a favour for you, _oui?_ ”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, looking at the paper in his hands.

“You said 'nice clothes'. That's all. I could have gone to any old shop and gotten a two-for-one suit deal for us. It's my choice to get custom clothes, because that's what makes me happy. It's what I think you deserve, but you didn't ask for it. You don't owe me anything.”

“Good, because I'd be on my deathbed and still only have it half paid off.”

“I don't mean money.” Louis kissed Harry's neck. “I mean sex. Blowjobs, kissing, anything. I went all out because I wanted to. You don't have to do anything in return.”

“I know,” Harry said, even though it was still a fairly new concept to him. “If you bought me a whole new wardrobe, or just a pair of holey undies from a thrift shop, I still wouldn't have to have sex with you.”

“That's right.” Louis pressed another kiss on Harry's neck.

“Doesn't mean I'm not going to,” Harry said, jumping out of reach as Louis tried to whack him on the bum.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Louis dressed Harry, which had been a near-daily routine for weeks now anyway. There was a nervousness in the air and to do something so standard, borrowed from the workplace, was oddly calming for both of them.

If Harry dared dream he and Louis might last beyond the TV show, if he just let himself have a stupid fantasy – he could imagine their routine stretching out forever; Louis dressing him for every date they went on, dressing him for his first real job interview, his twenty-first birthday, his wedding.

 _Their_ wedding... _if_ Harry let himself have a stupid fantasy.

Louis had taken two suitbags out of the closet like he was showing Harry gifts under the tree on Christmas morning. When Harry asked if he'd helped design them, he just gave a dismissive “ _Non._ ”

Harry raised his eyebrows but all Louis let on was, “I might have had some thematic ideas.”

Twin suits and coats had been made for them, different to each other but both in black and white. Harry thought he and Louis would definitely look like a couple.

Louis had put him in tight black pants that for a second Harry thought had sequins on them, but when he looked closer, he saw there were tiny birds embroidered into the fabric – swallows, by the shape of them. No two looked the same and by the amount Louis had paid, Harry certainly hoped they had been individually hand-embroidered in a matter of days. Harry's shirt was white from the chest down but the collar, shoulders and sleeves were black, and the fabric was so incredibly soft and smooth it almost felt like wearing nothing.

It wasn't anything he felt uncomfortable in – and he appreciated that, because Louis' outfit was a lot showier. It was incredibly nice to look at, and to wear. The pieces Harry was dressed in were the only ones ever made, and Harry felt lucky that they were his.

Louis seemed utterly indecisive, buttoning Harry's shirt up to the collar, then frowning and undoing two, three, four buttons. He stepped back and shook his head, but when he stepped closer again to rebutton it he couldn't help himself from kissing Harry's neck right down to his collarbones before doing two buttons up again. A frown came back to his face and then he buttoned it right up... and then, back open loose again.

“Are you nervous?” Harry had meant to say it jokingly, but the way it came out sounded dead serious.

“I just want it to be...” Louis settled on two buttons undone. “Perfect. This isn't dressing you for TV. It's dressing you for us. Well for me, mostly,” he admitted with a smile as he fixed cufflinks into Harry's sleeves.

 

Harry inspected the silver on his wrist. “Is that a fleur de lis?”

“It's an anchor, silly,” Louis said softly.

“Swallows and anchors?”

“Rope and anchor.” Louis passed a small box over to Harry.

Harry had an older sister; he recognised the Tiffany Blue. Inside it was another set of cufflinks shaped like two tiny knots.

“Rope and anchor,” Harry confirmed.“Well, let's not dwell on it.” Louis took the box back. “I know it's cliché.”

“Neither of us are home right now,” Harry said thoughtfully. He mimed shooting his hand across water. “We're both just... at sea.”

“Tied to each other so we don't drift away, yes,” Louis pretended to snap. He was blushing. “I told you it's clichéd.”

Cufflinks. Harry knew Tiffany's wasn't cheap. Their clothes definitely hadn't been, the Plaza Hotel surely wasn't, so it was a safe bet that the restaurant they were going to would be expensive too. Harry knew he should choose his next words carefully, because it wasn't polite to talk about money too much. Or at all, really.

“All this isn't coming out of your rainy-day fund, is it?” he tried.

Louis gave a minute shake of his head as he tucked Harry's shirt in, then gently tugged at the fabric so it sat just so.

“You could do this, what – once a year?” Harry pressed.“Once a month. More.” Louis said it so quietly Harry barely heard him.

When Harry replied, his voice was just as quiet. “Why are you doing Modern Missionary, then? You wanted a change, but it turns out this one is...” He hesitated over swearing, then hurriedly spelled it out; “S – h – i - t. You don't like any of our coworkers, and you have to parade around a fake girlfriend.”

“Yes, but I get a _real_ boyfriend.” Louis refastened the fleur de lis necklace around Harry's neck, dropping it under his shirt. “I get to see him every day.”

Harry took Louis' hands in his own, keeping them close to his chest. “We don't have to work together to be boyfriends. Even I know that, and you're the first one I've had.”

Louis kissed Harry's hands, and then his lips. “Three more months, _mon petit,_ ” he said, much more confidently. “That's hardly anything.”

Harry sighed, guilt weighing on him. “Three months is hardly any time to be long-distance, then. You should do something that actually makes you happy, not something that's simply tolerable.”

“Ah, but what if we go public one day?” Louis smirked. “I simply cannot tell anyone I'm dating a boy who's been on a worst-dressed list. This is for my own good, sticking around to be the one

who dresses you.” He winked.Harry knew that was bull – thanks to Louis, he'd already been papped in a bathrobe. What next?

“Listen, 'Arry,” Louis said warmly. “I do have money. Enough money to quit this job, pay out my contract, stay in this exact hotel room for the three months left, and fly you here every weekend.”

Harry felt his nostrils flare before he could stop them. That was a _lot_ of money.“I'm here by my choice,” Louis finished. “I can't stand not working. I need to be doing something.

And I'd much rather be doing something around you.” “Thank you,” Harry said.

It made Harry think of that story from the bible, the same one he'd refused to act out. The rich man in that story threw his money around, and it was meaningless, because he had so much more where it came from.

Louis had money. It didn't quite fit the image Harry had of him because he _hadn't_ thrown his money around, not until Harry said he wanted to go on a really nice date. Up until then it had just been sweet French nothings and ratty old t-shirts and a lock from Walmart and only just one single Prada sweater. And maybe that meant just as much as the poor old woman from that bible story giving all she had.

“You know I don't need this every time, right?” Harry checked. “Just because we're boyfriends now doesn't mean you have to spend lots of money on me. I like what we do already. Blanket forts. And stupid t-shirt club. Sitting on the same couch while you read the French news and I read science books.”

“Good.” Louis smiled. “I like doing those things too.”

“Thank you for the cufflinks. Thank you for everything.” Harry blushed, but kept talking. “I know it's not the same, but, I don't just want to lose my virginity. I want to give it to you.”

“ _Mon petit,_ what a gift!”

Louis leant away to look over Harry's outfit. At first he looked like he was just concentrating very hard - the same distracted-by-work way he looked at Harry when he dressed him for the show – mumbling more to himself that, “I think we will go with the tie,” and brushing a hair off Harry's shoulder.

But then Louis took him in top-to-toe again and said, “Oh my God,” in a voice that cracked high and he spun around, sitting back on the edge of the bed, looking stunned.

His eyes were pooling wet.

\-----

“Are you crying?” Harry confirmed incredulously, ducking his head to look at Louis. “ _Non,_ ” Louis firmly denied as he wiped a tear off his cheekbone.

It had been a while since he'd seen proper clothes in person. The closest he'd come was at that Fendi event, and the custom clothing showcased there had been at least out of arm's reach.

Seeing fine clothes up close, touching them and dressing someone in them – not just someone, dressing _Harry_ in them – was admittedly overwhelming. He was dressing Harry's nice little body that he knew so well. Sweet young Harry, who was so pretty he'd made Louis' heart hurt the first time he laid eyes on him in person. The clothes were so gorgeous that they would have awoken something in Louis on their own, but it was his Harry, his _boyfriend_ , in them. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He'd dressed models he knew very well: women whose measurements he had memorised in the back of his mind to this day, or men he'd slept with and therefore seen naked in every position possible.

Harry's body was different under fabric than anyone else's. Louis had memorised his numbers easily, could sketch Harry's figure from memory - but he also knew the way Harry's ribs moved under his skin when he took a deep breath to ease nervousness. Louis knew if he kissed Harry on the neck, he'd mewl and grab the back of Louis' head and beg Louis to be rough and leave a mark. He knew the exact point where a belt should sit on Harry, and he also knew if you traced your fingers over that line when Harry was naked, you could feel the muscles of his abdomen jump. Louis knew those hips flying up to fuck his face, for christ's sake. He knew Harry's arms, now laying soft by his sides and finished with the cufflinks Louis had bought him; he knew them bare and wrapped strong around him at night, making Louis feel small and cared for like he didn't have to be the adult all of the time.

Louis gave a loud sniff and wiped under his eyes again, smearing wet tears over his cheeks. “Wow,” Harry said softly, sitting down next to Louis.

It was a little easier with Harry to his side rather than right in his line of vision. Louis sniffed again, and cleared his throat to try to explain.

“You know I've seen the most beautiful things in the world, Harry.”

Harry dropped his head to rest on Louis' shoulder and picked up one of his hands, holding it in Louis' lap.

“I've seen supermodels backstage at Dior shows, getting glitter dusted on their lips. I've been to showrooms of every esteemed designer there is, I've seen clothes that get sent off to billionaires, even royalty. The view over my parent's vineyard would take your breath away. And I've been to Château de Versailles more times than I could count. You're more beautiful than all of it. They pale in comparison.”

“Versailles?” Harry sounded like he was cringing in self-consciousness. “I'm not a palace.” “You're my palace,” Louis said fervently.“Lou,” Harry whined, bashful.“You believe in god, don't you?”

“Yes,” Harry said straight away.

“That's been your whole life; god?”

“I guess so. Yeah.”

“Well, I believe in beauty. That's been my whole life. Following it, surrounding myself with it, letting it dictate my path.”

“Clothes,” Harry said - not in a demeaning way, but like he was still trying to understand.

“And now you. You're the only thing that's even come close, and I think you've rapidly become just as important. _More_ important. So it's just...” Louis gave a shaky sigh, wiping his eyes again. “A lot to look at. It makes my chest ache.”

“I think I get it,” Harry said carefully. “If I looked right at god, I'd probably cry too.” “I didn't cry,” Louis snipped, sounding revoltingly snotty.“Of course not,” Harry indulged him. “Do you need a tissue?”“Probably about five.”

“Five,” Harry said, standing up.

Louis heard him from the bathroom, quickly counting under his breath as he plucked tissues: “ _Un, deux, trois, quatre - cinq. Cinq._ ”

Adorable.

Reemerging with a handful of tissues, Harry passed them over to Louis, who blew his nose.

“Should we stay in?” Harry pretended to offer. “Let me think hard enough about something sad, I'll cry too.”

“ _Ta gueule,_ you little shit.” Louis laughed thickly. “I need to get dressed. And you've still got your tie and shoes.”

\-----

Harry lay back on the bed to wait, but then realised maybe that would wrinkle his clothes. He came back to the edge and perched there instead, watching Louis get himself dressed.

Louis had black suit pants that would be totally normal if it wasn't for a panel of fabric at the back, cut at an angle from one knee to the middle of the other thigh. It was like a built in seat protector or something, half a skirt, Harry certainly didn't _get_ it... but once Louis had put them on they didn't look weird. His outfit was really nice.

It did sort of hide his bum, though.

The fabric of Louis' shirt looked like... Harry didn't even know what. The way water rippled over swimming pool tiles. The way paint swirled thin when a brush was dipped in a jar of water. The few photos Harry had seen of space, nebulas and stars and whatever else. The stage floors he'd performed _Joseph_ on, painted-black with old colours ghosting through somehow, flecked with glitter from previous plays.

You could tell it was custom, too; Harry had never seen clothes fit so well. The shirt hung loose and moved over Louis but still showed off his frame perfectly, sewn together in all the right places – and Louis had a _lot_ of right places. He buttoned his shirt to the very top, which was a crying shame, really; Louis had a gorgeous chest and didn't show it off enough. Harry balked at him managing to fasten his rope-knot cufflinks one-handed.

Harry thoughtfully pondered Louis' bare ankles. “I should have gotten you Spiderman socks.”

Louis winked at Harry and leant down to kiss him. “It's okay. I'll take a night off crime-fighting. I want to stay with you.”

“You don't wear socks anyway,” Harry noted.

“The places I worked for in Paris got a lot of free clothes,” Louis explained. “Shoes too. Mostly too big for me, so I used to have to wear two pairs of socks. It's nice to not feel so suffocated any more.”

“You didn't just buy shoes that fit you?” Harry asked, confused.

“The rich don't get rich by spending all their money,” Louis said sagely. “I wouldn't get away with clothes in the wrong size, of course. But people don't notice if shoes are a bit big, so I used that to my advantage. Now I'm on the road, I don't worry so much about having a new pair of shoes each day.”

“It's nicer to just wear a few pairs of shoes in your own size, then? _Sans_ socks?”

“It's a nice change,” Louis said diplomatically. “But when I go back to work I'll sell out for those big shoes so fast it will make your head spin. The irony is, sample size used to be a perfect fit,” he sadly informed Harry. “Smaller size means less materials used, cheaper to make. They slowly started getting bigger though – I think because the global financial crisis happened, everyone wanted to look like they were doing fine.”

“And poor little Louis' free fancy shoes didn't fit him perfectly anymore,” Harry teased in a baby voice.

“Shh. Put this on.” Louis tried to whip Harry with a thin black tie. The soft fabric landed on his leg like a breeze.

“You trust me to do it?” Harry checked, taking it out of Louis' hand. “No. I'll re-tie it for you. But it's nice to pretend to give you a chance.” “ _You_ ta gueule,” Harry laughed.

\-----

Louis wasn't sure if the chord he'd struck was intimate or downright sleazy, securing them a small private room in a French-Italian restaurant. It was softly lit, with dark carpet and walls. A round table sat in front of a curved booth - Harry and Louis could sit next to each other. There was a candle burning on a silver candlestick that reminded Louis far too much of the ones Harry had sent clattering down that very late night in the church.

It was a very nice restaurant, but Louis cringed a little. A private room, for fuck's sake – it was definitely cliché. At least they hadn't put red rose petals on the table or something.

As soon as he turned to Harry, Louis stopped second-guessing himself; Harry's eyes had lit up like Louis had just opened the gates to Disneyland. Louis smiled at him, relieved. He wondered if Harry would always be like that, enchanted by the world, or if one day he'd be a bit more like Louis: less trusting, rarely impressed.

Louis gestured to the booth – with Harry's approval it didn't look so cheesy any more. God, he just wanted to take Harry's hand and lead him to the table, but the waitress was watching. They both sat down independently.

The waitress reached for their linen napkins but Louis held out a hand to stop her – was it completely selfish to want to be the only person to be so close to Harry tonight?

“Could I start you two off with some champagne?” she offered.

“No alcohol tonight, thank you.” Louis had already decided on that. “Sparkling water?” he suggested. Pitiful offer, really - _water_. Harry deserved champagne, he deserved to feel special - but he also deserved to be sober the first time he had sex, so...

Water.Harry looked unimpressed at the suggestion.

The waitress seemed to notice Harry's reluctance, and flipped his menu over for him. “We've got some virgin cocktails, if you like.”

Louis then sat back in his seat, properly relaxed. The service here was good. It was reassuring to know that the waitress would be making sure Harry was happy.

“ _Virgin_ cocktails,” Harry whispered to Louis out of the side of his mouth, his foot coming over to tap at Louis' ankle in amusement.

Louis tried – and possibly failed – to keep his face neutral.“Hey, look.” Harry pointed right down the bottom of the list. “Shirley Temple. It's me.”

Louis dared to lean over to Harry, whispering right into his ear. “Will you suck the cherry up and let me eat it from between your lips?”

He sat back again and Harry, twisting his hips in the seat, managed to order a Shirley Temple in a meek little voice.

As soon as the waitress left the small room, Harry let out a sigh and shuffled over along the booth, closing the modest distance they'd left between each other. Close enough for his nervous hand to find Louis' thigh. Close enough to hiss at Louis for giving him a stiffy in front of the waitress. Close enough for Louis to kiss him like he didn't care who Harry got hard in front of. The sight of Harry's bulge made his mouth water.

“I should have accounted for _that_ when I sent off your measurements,” he teased. Harry simply gave a shrug. He kept his hand on Louis' thigh.“You used to hit yourself in the stomach,” Louis remembered. “Not anymore?”

Harry's expression changed, remembering a time not at all long ago. “No,” he confirmed. “I guess I don't think it's bad any more. Embarrassing, maybe, but at least we're the only ones in here. I don't care if I get hard though. What else is supposed to happen when you whisper dirty things in my ear?” he pointed out.

“Mon petit-ami.” Louis was falling in love with how his silly term of endearment had quickly developed much more meaning.

“Et tu es mon cop _-ain,_ ” Harry mispronounced, grinning at Louis with a thousand cheeky watts.

“ _Puh_ ,” Louis corrected him, too surprised by Harry's full sentence to form a reply to it. He picked up Harry's linen napkin and gratuitously smoothed it over his lap. “ _Co_ pain, you say. It's not a bad title to have either way,” he added. “Where'd you learn that?”

“I googled it,” Harry said. “I didn't think you were _my_ petit-ami?”“It would sound strange, if you just called me that to my face,” Louis agreed. “But you're definitely my boyfriend. _Mon copain._ ”“Definitely.”

Harry ordered angel hair pasta, just because he thought the name was beautiful. He blushed an outrageous colour after kissing a maraschino cherry into Louis' mouth. When the waitress came with their meals, Harry's shy hand didn't leave Louis' thigh. He ate his dinner slowly, appreciating the fine food and clearly extra-careful to not to mess his new clothes. He'd accidentally used his dessert fork to twirl his pasta around and the only explanation Louis had as to why he found it so endearing and not-gauche, was that he must be hopelessly, disgustingly in love.

“Can I do that annoying, presumptuous boyfriend thing and order dessert for you?” Louis asked.

“Watch it,” Harry threatened. “That's _my_ boyfriend you're calling annoying and presumptuous.”

“My sincerest apologies. I'm sure he's fantastic.” Louis smirked. “They do a canelé here. It's just this simple pastry, it's probably the cheapest thing on the menu, but you'll die. It's heavenly.”

“Okay,” Harry happily agreed.

Louis rested his head back on the soft upholstery of the booth, unfocussed eyes looking to the ceiling. “They sell little ones at bakeries. I used to order boxes of sixteen in town and then eat them all before I got back home.”

“Sixteen? Is that like eating sixteen doughnuts at once?”

“This was back when I had a metabolism like yours,” Louis reminded Harry. “And with a large handful of siblings, plus forty staff working at the farm, I'd be an idiot to think I could save any for later. They'd get snatched up the second I came up the driveway. Anyway...” Louis looked back down at Harry, and was surprised to see he seemed genuinely interested in the story. He looked like he was mentally picturing a young Louis, stuffing pastries in his mouth as he rode a bike along a winding country road.

Louis had never indulged in nostalgia with anyone – or even himself - before. All his relationships were only about the moment. Harry was the first person that Louis believed genuinely cared about the past.

And the future.

He lunged forward to kiss him in thanks, and although Harry couldn't know what for, he kissed back.

“They go best with champagne,” Louis finished, catching his breath. “But we're not drinking tonight, are we? They're just as good with tea.”

\-----

Louis and Harry shared the dessert, giggling with full mouths as they fought with their forks over the canelé. It was nice, sweet and custardy – nothing special, really, but maybe it was to Louis; they tasted like his youth and his home and good memories. They tasted like _tonight_ for Harry, which he was sure would become a good memory.

“We're on a date,” Harry reminded Louis, chest swelling. “We're definitely boyfriends now.”

“Best-looking pair in the entire world, do you think?” Louis asked. “Dream team? Future power couple of the year?”

Harry fed another bite of canelé to Louis, buying time before he spoke. He wasn't sure if it was too soon to ask properley serious questions... but he really had to know.

He asked the tablecloth more than Louis beside him. “Boyfriends means we're committed in some way, right?”

“You're so energetic, it takes all I've got to keep up with you.” Louis gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek. “You're all I want.”

“Not just like that,” Harry explained, still looking ahead. “I mean... time-wise. When the show's over in a few months, and we don't have to be together for work...”

“There's nothing I could enjoy doing if it meant being far away from you.” Louis placed a gentle finger on Harry's cheek, turning him to face Louis so he could be kissed. “Whatever happens next, you're going to have a say in that choice.”

That was a million times more than Harry could ever have hoped for. It made him so giddy with happiness that his face might crack in two. He'd maybe expected something like, _I won't move too far away from you,_ or _wherever I go, I'll take you with me,_ but to be offered an actual say in the choice was huge. It wasn't like the suffocating pressure of being the Modern Missionary. This type of responsibility - the weight of being half of a partnership - was a comforting blanket around him.

When they finished dessert, Louis wrapped his arms around Harry, just falling short of pulling him right into his lap. Harry hardly had to snuggle in to Louis' side; they already fit together perfectly.

“I feel like this has been brief,” Louis said apologetically. “It's been perfect,” Harry replied.

“Do you want to go for a walk? We could get another Shirley Temple or a cup of tea somewhere else?”

Looking down at his lap, Harry thought about it. He stroked over the swallows on his leg. Free to fly. Louis would take him anywhere he wanted to go - at least within New York, the city that never sleeps. Surely Harry, free to fly for just one night, could pick just about anything to do.

“I'm ready to go back to the hotel,” he said, those words loaded with meaning.

 


	26. Chapter 26

Harry needed more than the fingers on both his hands to count the amount of times Louis had pushed him back against the doors of various hotel rooms, unable to wait one second longer. His lips would meet Harry's before his hand had even finished locking the door.

It had to be deliberate then, that tonight Louis simply turned his back and shut the door, leaving Harry untouched.

Harry saw Louis' hands trembling over the chain latch, then over his shoelaces. Harry took off his own shoes, thoughtfully nodding to himself.

It was reassuring to know that he'd be setting the pace tonight - even if Harry predicted he'd fumble through it, not entirely sure how these things were supposed to go. Part of him could die, he was so nervous and so embarrassed, but that was entirely preferable to being rushed – and Louis must agree with that, if he was letting Harry fumble.

Harry slowly nudged his shoes over to the corner of carpet where Louis' sat. He didn't know how to _start,_ so he looked up to Louis with a nod, permitting him.

“Do you want to sit for a bit?” Louis offered, gesturing at the couch. Harry shook his head, then tilted it towards the bedroom. Wordlessly, Louis smiled in agreement.

Before they moved over to the bed, Harry stepped in closer and quickly kissed Louis. He felt just as daring-yet-clueless as he had the first time he'd kissed Louis - the first time he'd kissed _anyone -_ that night they'd tried to stay quiet back in his parents' house. Just like that first kiss, Harry didn't really move his lips. He just pushed hard against Louis' for a split second and then pulled back, waiting in the doorway of the suite.

“ _Ça va?_ ” Louis gently checked. “Now we're back here? Nothing will happen tonight if you don't want it to.”

“I'm nervous about what I _do_ want to happen,” Harry admitted. “Not about anything I don't want. And I need to say something.”

Louis waited as Harry tried to find the right words. Louis was so sweet, and it definitely didn't hurt that he was French. He could be so romantic sometimes. Harry wished he could match it.

“Well? Say it,” Louis encouraged. Then he quickly added, “I mean, you don't have to, just because it's what you're supposed to say. I think I know what you mean, so it's okay. I've heard it before.”

“I'm not so good with words,” Harry mumbled. “And you've been so romantic all night. But I just need you to know how much I love you.”

 

“ _'Arry,_ ” Louis lilted out, savouring the two syllables.

Harry loved hearing his name like that. It wasn't Louis' accent. He didn't sound like he was calling a friend over or scolding a child. He said it like he was blessed to be able to say it.

Louis said Harry's name like it was a prayer.

“I love _you._ I love you, and-” Louis cut himself off with a frustrated groan. "These things don't sound as trite in French! _Je t'aimerai toujours. Je suis le tien,_ ” he said with a sort of amused sarcasm, waving his delicate hand. “See? But... I think I'll actually love you forever. I will love you every single day.”

Harry hadn't realised he'd started grinning until Louis went on. “That _smile!_ The only smile in the world that I could ever fall in love with, and...” Louis laughed, mostly at himself. "I _swear_ it all sounds so much better in French,” he repeated.

“I'm sure it does,” Harry said encouragingly, only half-teasing.Louis had really said ' _forever_ '.“I'll learn French. Like, all of it,” Harry added. “It might take a while, though.” “I don't care how long it takes. Then I can tell you all that again, in French.” “You're not just saying that?”

Louis shook his head instantly, but took a moment to verbalise his response. “I'm not just saying it. It's the truth. I feel... shy, to say all that, but I think you need to hear it.” He smoothed Harry's hair off his forehead to his temple. “I love you, and I promise you'll always be safe with me.”

“Hey, Lou?” Harry asked.“Oui?” Louis replied.“If it sounds better in French, say it in French too.”“But you won't understand.”Harry took Louis' face between his hands. “I understand you.”

Louis began kissing Harry – his cheeks, his nose, his brow, speaking French so fast Harry couldn't make a word out. Harry knew, though. He could hear it in the passionate tone of Louis' voice, the way Louis' hands held Harry's shoulders, the way every small kiss was pressed onto Harry's skin so deliberately.

Harry just let the sound wash over him, slowly pulling Louis over to the bed. He knew Louis would translate anything truly important, he wouldn't not say it in English just because he'd already said it in French. He just had to be in that part of himself for a moment, and Harry understood that. Louis was exactly who he wanted there with him.

“Can we draw the curtains?” Harry blurted out when they reached the bed. “I think it will feel like a blanket fort. Sorry to be stupid.” A large part of him was so over blanket forts, over feeling like a lot of what they did had to be hidden away – but blanket forts were also their safe space, his and Louis', a manmade sanctuary away from all the chaos and confusion and fear. That's where Harry guessed this had to take place.

“You're not stupid,” Louis said firmly, immediately untying the canopy by the closest bedpost and drawing it shut. “You can have whatever you want tonight.”

Harry sat and waited on the bed while Louis drew the entire canopy closed.

Louis then ducked back in under the curtains and crawled over to where Harry sat at the head of the bed. They kissed; Louis' lips were warm and soft and Harry knew he'd be hard in approximately one nanosecond because Louis was a very good kisser.

It was a safe bet that he was very good at the other things they were going to do, too. Harry could feel nervousness wrapped around his beating heart, but the way Louis kissed him took the harsh edge off it.

“ _Mon garçon,_ ” Louis said happily. “You taste like canelé.”

Louis began to run his hands over Harry's shirt. The smooth fabric was warm over Harry's skin but he could feel the coldness of Louis' fingertips through it, and the contrasting sensations made his whole body shudder, tiny fireworks going off in special places.

Louis found each button and undid it while he kissed Harry again. He was savouring it though, Harry could tell – the shirt wasn't an inconvenience or a barrier; it was just... part of it all, included in all the nice little steps they would take tonight. Louis gently touched the fleur de lis that lay on Harry's chest, his face glowing with fondness. He then took Harry's cufflinks out, as well as his own, and then shot a hand out under the curtains, blindly placing them on the bedside table.

Mentally picturing their cufflinks sitting on the sidetable made Harry smile. He and Louis were together here in the bed but they were together outside it too, the world out there rotating around as it kept them together; matching cufflinks by the bedside, twin pairs of shoes left together by the door, two suitcases filled with what's-mine-is-yours clothes.

Harry shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall behind him on the bed, then quickly began getting Louis' own shirt undone. He didn't mean to be so shameless, but he had _already_ taken time to appreciate Louis' shirt. They'd had dinner and looked nice and that part of the evening was done. Harry was ready for the next part. Louis' eyes watched Harry's hands as he slipped the buttons out of each buttonhole. Harry pulled it right off Louis' arms, throwing it to the foot of the bed.

Louis' arms were small, not bulging like the arms of famous football players Harry was realising he had admired for more than their athleticism. When he ran his hands up Louis' arms they did feel very strong though, muscles effortlessly supple, all of him wrapped in tan skin. When Harry's

hands got to Louis' shoulders he moved in and down to stroke the middle of Louis' chest. The sparse patch of fair hair there was like home, the same place where Harry's tears had fallen, where his come had landed, where his palm would rest as they fell asleep. Harry looked at Louis' chest, then looked at his own hand over it. Louis' lungs moved below Harry's fingers and each breath he made sounded happy.

Harry thought about _Men like me have heard of Louis Tomlinson long before Modern Missionary_ and _You see him every day? You're so lucky!_ He thought about how weeks and weeks ago Louis had sneered at Harry, _You're not my type,_ and a little while after that it had been, _I don't fall in love with anyone._ And here Louis was, looking at Harry with utter reverence, doing everything he could to show Harry how much he loved him.

In a suite in New York City, dressed in more money than he even had in his bank account, Louis' arms moving forward to frame his body... Harry had never felt more loved.

Both bare chested, Harry shuffled down the bed and Louis leant in over him, kissing him hungrily as their warm skin touched. Harry lay back, hoping his nervous butterflies would soon entirely give way to arousal – but Louis wasn't kissing the way he normally was. Harry didn't understand it-

Until he shifted and felt a button pressing into his back, expensive fabric crushed beneath him. He started giggling.

\-----

“What's funny?” Louis asked. He pulled back to look at Harry, who already had blurred lips and pink cheeks from kissing, and _merde_ , Louis was just there to keep watching him unravel.

Harry was grinning in amusement, dimple popped in his skin. “You want to hang up the shirts, don't you?” It wasn't even a guess. It was an accusation disguised in a rhetorical question.

Louis hesitated, propped up on his arms. He didn't want to ruin the moment. “ _Non,_ it's fine,” he decided, leaning back down to kiss Harry.

Harry twisted his head out of the way, leaving Louis' lips chasing air. “Go on,” he permitted, fondly rolling his eyes. “We'll take our pants off too and then you can hang it all up.”

Louis bit his lower lip, although he was sure his eyes were giving away his happiness. _This_ was the boyfriend he'd landed. Unbelievable. Harry knew Louis too well, and he still loved him.

Still, it would be ridiculous to interrupt themselves like that.

“Go _on,_ ” Harry insisted, giving Louis' chest an easy shove. “Tonight's supposed to be perfect, right? You'll be miserable if you spend all evening thinking about how these beautiful new clothes are getting wrinkled.”

Louis grabbed Harry's face and pulled him in close, dotting his cheeks and lips with a hundred lightning-fast kisses while Harry spluttered in insincere protest.

“You are so wonderful to me, Harry Styles! You are _perfect._ ”

“Wooden hangers only,” Harry teased as he pulled his pants off himself, that beautiful embroidered fabric sliding away to reveal the sparse, dark hair over his soft, pale legs. It wouldn't be fair to bite his inner thighs after deciding to leave him for a moment, would it?

“Not the plastic hotel ones,” Harry went on.

Louis hesitated, biting his lower lip again.

“What?” Harry asked, handing his pants over.

“Can I steam them?” Louis quickly pleaded. “I'll be super quick, you won't even know I'm gone. I just don't want to leave them wrinkled overnight.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry simply permitted, but once Louis had gathered their clothes and stepped out of the bedroom, he heard Harry laughing to himself.

Louis hung up their clothes and steamed the wrinkles out. It was strange to be separated from Harry by the bed's curtains. He wondered what the kid was doing in there – jerking off maybe, or slowly breathing to calm down - praying, even.

The clothes had looked a million times better on Harry than they did here on the hanger, but gut- wrenchingly so, making Louis' heart break. He could hardly believe he'd been allowed to live in a world with so much beauty in it.

When he peeked back through the canopy, Harry lay back bare on one side of the bed, cock hard, curls spilled over the pillow below him. Just as beautiful naked as he was in haute couture.

Louis lay down next to him carefully, like if he moved too roughly Harry might break. Harry leant in to kiss Louis, pressing his skin against Louis' body at every single possible juncture. Louis could hardly take it all in, the way Harry tasted, his smell, how warm his skin felt, everything about Harry that he'd experienced so many times before. It somehow all felt new. Louis let his hand find Harry's side, thumbing over his hipbone and then inward, over the skin where he'd been shaved bare.

“Listen, Louis,” Harry said timidly.

“Yes?”

“I know this has to be a secret.”

“Mm-hm,” Louis agreed, moving his hand back outward to cradle Harry's hip as he paused to listen.

“And I don't mind that at all,” Harry rushed to add. “I'm not ready for anyone else to know I'm gay. I just want you to know that when I promise I can keep a secret, that means forever.”

“Thank you. I hope we won't always be a secret, though?”

“Not always,” Harry said, trailing his fingers over Louis' stomach. “But, um. If you know I'm going to keep a secret no matter what, then I'll know you're not only with me so I don't tell it.”

“Oh, wow,” Louis sighed, understanding what Harry was saying. “God, that's so – you're very smart, Harry, to think that through. Very mature.”

“I just need to know that you're always with me because you want to be, not because you have to be. That if something ever happened, you wouldn't stay with me just out of fear and like... pretend to love me. So even if we have a big, huge fight, you're safe, okay?”

“You too,” Louis promised. “I am so proud that you told me you're gay, and I'm so happy that you're my boyfriend. But that's plenty for now, _oui?_ I don't need more than that. I'm not going to tell anyone that you're gay, or push you to move any faster. You take everything at your own pace, because your pace is what suits me too.”

Harry flashed teeth and curved lips and a dimple at Louis as his fingers moved lower to lightly stroke at Louis' cock over his underwear. Louis' body gave a little involuntary shiver, and as much as he wanted to grab Harry and kiss him, it was just as nice to stay back and look into his eyes, pale green focused on him as he gripped at Louis' hardness with his hand.

Harry took a deep breath. “Setting the pace,” he noted, hand tightening over Louis. “I'm ready for more.”

Louis pushed his hips forward, increasing the pressure of Harry's big hand on him. It was a relief to go from kissing to _more,_ the heightened sexuality of their touches a promise of things to come.

“I've been wanting to do this since the day I met you,” Louis groaned.

“Really?” Harry asked, all sweet and proud, making Louis tingle as he moved his fingers up to the head of Louis' cock.

“Yes, I - well... no,” Louis admitted, giving Harry's hip a playful squeeze. “You were rude and annoying and you smelled like that awful body spray when I met you.”

“Shut up,” Harry giggled, hand still stroking heavy over Louis.

“You gave me a headache!”

“Well, fancy-pants, I could barely understand a thing you said,” Harry shot back. “Your accent was so thick. And you were bossy. And snobby; _Ooh, my bag cost the same as a car,_ ” he mimicked.

“We could have been great enemies,” Louis declared. “But somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you.”

Harry sighed out a touched little, “ _Oh,_ ” and moved his hand up just a bit, fiddling with the elastic of Louis' underwear. “When did you know? That you liked me?” he asked.

Louis paused to think about it, trailing his fingers over Harry's hip, unable to ignore how Harry's bare cock twitched when he came in closer.

“Since that very early morning in your house, I think,” Louis mused. “When your parents had left and you snuck in to my bed before the sun even rose. And this time, you smelled good. Bedsheets and pajamas and Allure Homme. It was all so very nice, to fall back asleep with you in my arms. And then...” Louis trailed off, indulging the memory.

Harry's eyes flashed as he pushed Louis onto his back, springing himself up to get on top of him. “And then I woke up,” Harry whispered in Louis' ear, nudging his hips – his hard cock – against Louis'. “And you felt so good lying there next to me.” He began trailing kisses down Louis' neck, raking his fingers over Louis' chest.

“And then?” Louis urged him on.

“I was so hard and I couldn't keep myself off you. I just wanted your body, so bad. And now I've got you.” He began tugging at Louis' underwear. “Get these _off!_ I can't wait any longer to have you inside me!”

\-----

Louis broke their kiss to ask, “Can I play with you for a bit?” He reached under one of the pillows, procuring a small black silk bag that he took a bottle of lubricant out of. It was touching to picture Louis hiding it there hours before. He'd planned the night carefully for Harry.

“Not too much,” Harry requested, lying back in the centre of the bed. “Don't want to get worked up too soon.”

“Not worked up,” Louis promised. “Just warmed up.”

As Louis poured some lube out into his fingers, Harry placed his feet up on the mattress, knees bent. It was a little awkward to lie there and wait, and his stomach was filled with butterflies. No matter how steadily he breathed, they kept fluttering. He didn't know why he was _so_ nervous. This was exactly what he wanted.

Maybe it was Louis' nerves that he was picking up on.“Are _you_ sure you want to do this?” Harry asked. “This is all okay?”

“Yes,” Louis said sincerely, and Harry didn't doubt him. “Thank you for asking. This all feels right. But you know it's only right for me if you're just as sure.”

“Hundred percent,” Harry said.

Louis reached down and began rubbing his wet fingers over Harry's hole, kissing Harry's inner thigh as he did. It felt _good._ Incredibly good – Harry had the urge to snap his thighs together, squeezing Louis in close, but tonight was more important than Louis' mouth on him so he tilted up his hips instead, boldly spreading his legs further apart. Harry felt his body relax under Louis' touch, and he knew it was all going to be okay.“Would you like me to put a finger in you?” Louis asked.“Yes.” Harry took a breath in, and slowly let it out as Louis pushed his finger inside Harry.

Harry winced, then took another deep breath, remembering he had to consciously relax. It felt... not-good. Not that stretched burning that faintly flared before quickly easing off. It was different to that.

“Can I lie on my tummy instead?” Harry asked, before it could start to hurt. “Like the first time you did this?”

“Of course!” Louis took his finger out, and Harry rolled over.

Louis didn't get straight back to it - Harry felt lips on the back of his leg. Louis covered Harry's skin with kisses, slowly moving higher, sometimes with parted wet lips, sometimes nibbling a bit, all the way up to lick a lazy line where Harry's thigh met his ass. Harry quivered. The way Louis touched him was so incredible - Harry probably would have collapsed it he wasn't already flat on the bed.

Easing his impatience, Harry heard the bottle as Louis poured out more lube. Then Louis' finger came back to Harry's rim, massaging around the edges. Harry liked the way it felt, the way Louis' finger pushed into the skin he'd shaved bare. Knowing his skin was hairless made Harry feel exposed in some way, like it was obvious he was here to do this kind of thing.

Louis' other hand cradled Harry's balls, lightly massaging them in tandem. Harry let out a soft moan, and Louis slid his finger inside him again.

It didn't hurt, it wasn't painful – but it wasn't comfortable. Louis was moving his finger in and out so slowly, so _lovingly_ , but it really didn't feel right.

Harry didn't know why it felt different. He lay there, trying to relax, breathing in and out and not allowing a single muscle of his body to tense up. He couldn't help but worry though; what if something didn't work, what if he didn't get to have sex tonight? The night had been perfect, Louis had been perfect, Harry couldn't handle it if something went wrong now. Then he realised worrying about that wouldn't help him relax either, so he took another deep breath, willing his mind to go blank and his hole to go pliant.

Harry could sense Louis leaning forward behind him. He was still gently moving his finger in and out, but Harry could feel Louis' curious eyes on him, trying to figure it out. Harry knew he mustn't feel right under Louis' touch. His whole body was still, but it wasn't in relaxation. He was stony like a statue. He was waiting it out, and it was obvious.

“Are you all right, mon petit?” Louis asked, smoothing Harry's hair back with his free hand, letting the movement continue as he ran his hand down Harry's back.

“Yeah, it's fine.” Harry's voice didn't come out as convincingly as he'd hoped. “Just keep going.” Against Harry's orders, Louis took his finger out. Harry felt bad for feeling so relieved. He turned over, seeing Louis wipe his fingers off on his discarded underwear. Glancing lower, Harry's heart sank when he saw Louis wasn't very hard any more.

Harry brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them to comfort himself. “I'm sorry,” he said sincerely, desperately needing Louis to know he was sorry and he didn't feel like Louis had done anything bad. “I don't know what's wrong. It didn't feel right.”

“That's okay,” Louis promised him. “Nothing's wrong.”

“No, it is,” Harry moaned. “I'm not even scared, I'm just – I don't know. _Too_ excited. Can't relax.”

“Nervous?” Louis guessed.

Harry nodded. “Not in a scared way, though. I promise.”

“It's fine,” Louis said firmly. He sat in front of Harry and kissed both his knees, leaving his hands there to give Harry a reassuring rub. “There's no time limit on this. We can do it whenever.”

“No, it has to be tonight.” Harry's knees gave a panicked twitch under Louis' hands. “Can't you just do it anyway? I don't care if it hurts.”

“I care, 'Arry,” Louis said softly. “I don't want it to hurt you. It's your first time. I want it to be perfect.”

“It _is_ perfect, though!” Harry insisted. “Well, not my fricking bum not fricking cooperating, but everything else has been. This whole little trip has been perfect, with your family's cheese, and the bar last night, and the clothes you got us, and the restaurant... how nice you are to me. All the sweet things you've said. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. I couldn't have _dreamed_ of anything more. I want to do it tonight. You're my boyfriend, I'm not scared to have sex with you, you have to believe me.”

“I do believe you. You and I don't do secrets, and we definitely don't do lies. But sometimes even if you want something in your head, your body can't make it work. That's okay. Maybe you're just too tired.”

“I'm not tired!” Harry insisted.

“Sure,” Louis easily agreed. “Whatever it is though, it's fine.”

“I'll have ruined the whole night!” Harry wailed. He was a bit embarrassed about causing a scene, but he'd feel far more embarrassed if he let such an incredible opportunity pass him by. He wanted it _tonight._ He wanted it so, so badly. “You did all this for me, because I said it would have to be a proper date before I – you know, did it, and now I can't even do it!”

“We've still had a good night,” Louis pointedly reminded him. “I didn't take you to dinner just so I could have sex with you. You know that I love just spending time with you, right?”

“Same,” Harry quickly promised, leaning in to give Louis a kiss. “We've had the best night ever. But, I want it to be even best-er. Can we just try again, please? With fingers?”

“Of course we can,” Louis said. “On the condition that you tell me the truth, okay? You tell me if it's uncomfortable.”

“Promise.” Harry let go of his legs, not sure which way he should lie now.

Louis picked up on his hesitation and suggested, “You could try on your side? Curl your knees up a bit?”

Harry settled down on his side, watching over his shoulder as Louis tipped even more lube out over his fingers. That was good. It could only help. Louis carefully stroked the outside of Harry's rim.

Glad things were back on track, Harry's neck arched at the way Louis made him feel – but when Louis slid one finger in about halfway, Harry found himself holding his breath in hesitation again.

“No good?” Louis asked.Harry shook his head, feeling utterly defeated.Louis took his finger out and wiped it off again, then lay down next to Harry on the bed.

Humiliated, Harry rolled flat on his chest. “Bet this isn't how you saw tonight going,” he said miserably.

Louis smiled at him, linking his fingers through Harry's hand. “I tried to not have any expectations. Time spent with you will never be time wasted.”

“Poetic.” Harry rolled his eyes at Louis, but was really only fed up with himself.“We can do blanket fort and icecream?” Louis offered. “Or we could go out and see a movie?”

Harry winced. “ _The Sound of Music_ and a tub of Chunky Monkey is definitely _not_ how I saw tonight going. I did have expectations. Detailed ones.”

Louis cocked an eyebrow. “ _Detailed expectations?_ ” he echoed. “Care to share them?” “I wanted us dressing up nice and having a nice dinner,” Harry said.“We did that!”

“I know! I'm just saying what I expected. Like... playing footsies under the table and holding hands over it?” Harry prompted. “But I'd imagined we'd be sitting opposite sides of a table. The table you got us was even better.”

“That's good, then. What else?”“Kissing in public, and saying I love you?”“We've done both of those,” Louis happily confirmed. “And you even bought me a rose.” “And then tonight we'd come back here, to the Plaza Hotel, and have sex.”

“Ah. _That's_ where we've tripped up!” Louis joked, like he'd finally solved the mystery for Harry. He reached to Harry's shoulder, pushing him up to face Louis properly. “Come in closer, I want to give you a cuddle. Why don't we get under the covers?”

Harry was distraught at the finality of that suggestion. He didn't want to go to _sleep._ He stayed put on the bed, not letting Louis pull the duvet out and over them.

“Tomorrow I have to go back to all of it,” Harry said weakly. “Being told what to say and what to do and who to be. And so do you! You have to go back and kiss Eleanor in front of paparazzi and ignore it when people say you're straight. I just wanted _one night_ here with you. I want to know that stupid Modern Missionary isn't all there is. I want to do you-and-I stuff. Boyfriend stuff. You saw all those girls running at me outside of the market, I told you that people were sending tweets out saying where they'd seen me. It's only going to get worse, I'm going to have to hide more and more. That's going to be hard enough as it is, I don't want this night to be wasted.” Harry had gotten louder as he spoke, and he practically shouted his last sentence; “I don't want to be a stupid nervous virgin who can't relax his bum enough to get anything up there!”

“ _Pardon my French,_ ” Louis quoted, laughing. “ _But Harry is so tight that if you were to shove a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks-_ ”

“ _You'd have a diamond,_ ” Harry finished for him. “Hilarious.”

Maybe Harry didn't know how these things normally played out, but he was sure quoting movies wasn't part of foreplay, which meant they were definitely headed back in the opposite direction again. That _sucked._

“We can try again in the morning, mon petit,” Louis decided with heartbreaking finality. “No harm done.”

Harry didn't mean to be such a whiny brat – or maybe he did, indulging in a scrunched-up expression of displeasure. ' _Try tomorrow_ ' wasn't the plan.

And - Plan B would be fine enough, Harry could acknowledge that. It would probably still be wonderful. It just wouldn't be part of tonight's fairytale, the way losing his virginity should be.

“Sleepy morning sex?” Louis coaxed, rocking Harry back and forth. “Waking up together, sunlight coming in soft through the window, you and I all cuddly under the sheets?”

Harry allowed himself a small smile. “Sounds good. Really good. It's just not what I'd imagined for my first time.”

“What did you imagine?” Louis asked.

“Tonight! After our big date,” Harry insisted. “I just told you.”

“I know,” Louis said slowly, sounding like he was thinking it over. “But the actual sex part. How did you imagine it happening once we got back here tonight? Explain it to me, how you thought it would go.”

“Like this.” Harry pointed a finger outside, although the view of the window was hidden by the bed's canopy. “Night time. But not tired yet. Naked. Lots of kissing. _Evening_ sex, not morning sex.”

“Lots of kissing,” Louis noted. “Sex in the evening. What else? Give me _details._ ”“Oh, I don't know,” Harry mumbled, blushing a little.“Yeah, you do,” Louis coaxed, nudging his knee against Harry's. “How do you think you want

it?”

Harry took a deep breath, then let it all come out. “Holding hands real tight. You telling me that you love me and I look good and I'm not bad at sex. Hot and sweaty and it feeling really, really good. Whispering nice stuff to each other... _shouting_ other stuff to each other. Rude stuff. Coming on you. Then licking it off and kissing you, because I know you like that.”

Harry caught Louis only half-successfully muffling a groan. Encouraged, he went on. “And then getting to fall asleep after. Together. Naked. Wake up in the middle of the night and do it all over again.”

“Oh, mon petit,” Louis sighed. “You make that sound so good. No wonder it's feeling disastrous that it's not working out.” He tilted his head forward and kissed Harry slowly, humming thoughtfully. “That's about it, though?” he asked Harry. “That's all there was to your plan?”

\-----

Louis thought about it for just a second more, and then spoke before he could change his mind. “It's fine if you don't want to do it this way,” he started. “But we could still do all that. All the whispering and shouting and holding hands and feeling really good. Tonight. If we just...” Louis held up two fingers, then spun his hand around so they switched sides.

Harry's eyes slowly widened. “You want me to do you?” he clarified, astonished. “Do you even do that?”

Louis shrugged. “Not often. But why not tonight? Unless that's too far from how you'd pictured it.”

“No, it's not,” Harry slowly decided. “I'm here because I want this with _you_. I guess which way 'round doesn't matter.”

“I just think maybe if you can see what it's like from the other end of it, it won't seem like such a big deal any more.” Louis hesitated, then went for it. “And you've got a gorgeous cock, Harry, I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind. _Merde,_ you'd feel amazing.”

“What if I don't? I might be bad at it,” Harry nervously said, like a disclaimer.

“There's not that much to it,” Louis assured him. Maybe that was a little white lie, but tonight it didn't matter, it wasn't about technique. “Just do what feels good for you. But - do be _gentle,_ won't you? It's been a while. I don't want your big dick to be the last thing I ever sit on.”

“ _Shh,_ ” Harry said, but he was grinning. “Oh my god,” he added, sounding stunned. “What?”

Harry reached around, grabbing Louis' ass in his hand and giving it a firm squeeze. He groaned. “You have such a nice -” he seemed to hesitate for a split second before decisively swearing; “ _Ass!_ I'm really...?”

“It's yours for the night, if you want. But we really don't _have_ to have sex tonight.”“I want,” Harry said firmly. “I want, I want, I want.” He sat up, and then paused. “Jeepers. What do I even _do?_ How do we start?”“Well, before we do anything, I think you should decide now: condom or no condom?”Harry made a face at the abrupt frankness of the question. “Gosh. Um. What do you think?”“I think I am totally impartial,” Louis said diplomatically. “I'm happy either way. It's your choice.” “You got tested before you came here, and you don't have anything?”“That's right.”

“And I'm a virgin...” Harry nodded, thoughtful for a moment. Then he looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. “I've heard guys say you can't feel it as much with a condom on, so it makes you last longer.”

“It's possible,” Louis said. “I don't know. It might. It might not.”

“Condom, then,” Harry decided. “Can't hurt.”

“They're in the bathroom,” Louis said. “I'll go get one.”

“Maybe get a couple, just in case?” Harry quickly requested. “I've literally never seen one outside of the box. I have no idea what to do with it.”

A moment later, Harry was sat naked on the bed, delicately holding a condom just in his fingertips. His shoulders were hunched up in surprise at the sensation and his nose was winkled in displeasure at the mild scent. “It smells like rubber. Hey! _That's_ why they call it a rubber?” he realised.

“You unroll it, see?” Louis demonstrated over a couple of fingers.

Harry copied mid-air, looking at the empty condom for a moment before waving it around like a limp snake.

“You'll take your eye out if you're not careful,” Louis laughed.

Harry lifted it up, peering at Louis through the blurry-clear latex. “It's very thin. I thought it would be more tough, like a balloon. It doesn't seem very hardy.”

“Stretch it,” Louis suggested.

Harry put his fingers inside and pulled – and pulled, as his eyes went wide. “Oh my go- gosh, it goes so big! I could fit it over my head!”

“Please don't do that.” Louis laughed, holding up a new one. “They say you shouldn't open the packet with scissors or your teeth, just in case you damage the condom inside. They've got the serrated edge though, they rip open easily in your fingers, see?”

“Have we met?” Harry asked, still stretching the condom in his hands. “Do you think I'm smooth enough to open a condom packet with my teeth?”

“Guess not,” Louis said - although Harry was a natural at most of what he'd tried. “See the little bit at the tip? You pinch that before you put it on, and then you slide the sides down. Otherwise if there's air caught in there it – I don't know why they tell you to do that, actually. Maybe it would pop!”

Harry ripped open a new one in his fingers, and then frowned at it. “This one's not unrolling.”

“You've got it the wrong way – there you go,” Louis said, watching Harry flip it around and unravel it in his hands.

Harry rubbed his fingertips together. “Lube?” he guessed. “Most come with a tiny bit on them. But you'll need a lot more.” “To do you,” Harry said, like he still couldn't believe it.

“Yes,” Louis said. He couldn't quite believe it himself. “Oh, and when you pull out, once you're done? Hold on to the base of it to keep it on, so that nothing spills out. Pull it off, you can tie a knot, put it in a tissue and into the bin – _the trashcan_ \- it goes.”

“Okay.” Harry picked up a new condom in the packet, and slowly raised it right above his head. “Let's do this.”

Louis looked up at the condom in Harry's hand like he was seeing it for the first time, suddenly kicking himself. “Ah, _putain!_ Will you hate me if I have to leave for a few minutes?”

“What? Why?” Harry asked, dropping his hand back down to the mattress with a soft thud.

Louis started to gather the empty condom packets scattered over the bed. “These are standard condoms.” He sighed in regret and leant in, firmly kissing Harry. “I don't think it would hurt to get you bigger ones. You didn't pack the ones your uncle bought, did you?”

“No. Sorry,” Harry apologised, pained. “I hid them in the suitcase you left behind. I thought you'd take care of tonight.”

“I thought I had. Shortsighted of me. _Desol_ é _, mon petit._ I will _run_ to buy more.” “Be quick,” Harry urged him.“I promise.” Louis got up, finding a pair of jeans to put on.

Anxiously waiting in line at a convenience store, Louis shifted his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet. He ended up buying _four_ boxes of magnums, never, ever wanting to make the mistake of having to leave a naked Harry alone again.

He was also admittedly anxious about being fucked by Harry – practically giddy with excitement, but definitely nervous too. The kid had a big dick.

Louis then laughed, realising that Harry probably wouldn't last too long anyway. It would be fine. It would be sex. With Harry. Louis hadn't felt like it had been a difficult wait, until now. His whole body was screaming, _finally, finally, finally,_ half-hard in anticipation as he exited the shop _._

Louis ran back up the street to the Plaza, tapped his toe and drummed his fingers in the elevator, then sprinted to the door of their hotel room. He threw it open, locked it behind him, and marched back to the bed.

A warm, flickering glow surprised him - tealight candles had been lit, lining the bedroom by the walls. Bigger candles in glass pots were positioned on the bedside tables, filling the room with a faint caramel scent not too different from the crust of a canelé. Harry was sat in the middle of the bed with a white sheet loosely pulled around his hips.

“I tied the canopy back again.” Harry stated the obvious as he shyly pointed to one of the bed posts. “I don't want to hide. As long as you're here, I'm safe.”

Louis wordlessly ripped open one of the boxes he'd bought. He took out a strip of condoms and dropped everything else in his hands onto the floor, then stepped back up to the bed. To Harry.

\-----

Louis knelt on the bed in front of Harry and his hands found the sides of Harry's face, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he kissed Harry slow and passionate. The condom packet in his hand crinkled by Harry's ear and it all now felt very real.

“You lit candles,” Louis said in an airy voice - seemingly still catching his breath from racing back to the hotel.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back, hoping it was okay.“You _packed_ candles?” Louis clarified, but he sounded too delighted. He knew Harry hadn't. “No,” Harry said sheepishly, shyly twisting the button of Louis' fly between his fingers.

He had called room service and asked if they had any candles, and somehow he ended up with a bellboy in his room who pointed out the small fire extinguisher in the wardrobe and then efficiently flicked a cigarette lighter as he placed candles all around the room. The bellboy had made some friendly joke about prom night and Harry's girlfriend and Harry had just laughed along as he nervously jiggled his leg, silently praying Louis wouldn't come back before the bellboy left. It had been close. They might have even passed each other in the hall.

“They'll probably come up on the hotel bill. Sorry.” Harry tried to promise he'd pay Louis back for them, but Louis cut him off with another kiss.

“You look so beautiful in this light,” Louis said, impassioned, as he let the condoms drop down to the bed. “Can I touch you? Under that sheet, is that okay?”

“Yes,” Harry instantly allowed.“It's okay to say it's not,” Louis said, hands not yet moving from Harry's face.Harry looked straight into his eyes. “I know. I'll say if it's not. But I want to have sex, Louis.”

Louis kissed him again, all slow and sighing against his lips. He ran one hand down Harry's torso, sneaking under the sheet and finding his cock. Harry whimpered as Louis slowly stroked him, his hand easy and loose. Harry was instantly gone, glowing and pulsing under Louis' touch. It felt so good.

Harry kissed Louis back and undid the button of his jeans. Louis took the hint and leant back to pull them off – he hadn't even put underwear on underneath them and he made no show of undressing, just ripped his shirt right off too and dropped his clothes down by the side of the bed, away from the candles. He then knelt up on the bed and pulled Harry into his arms, kissing down his neck.

“ _'Arry, Je t'aime,_ ” he whispered.

The hair on Louis' chin was scratching over Harry's neck. He smelled like the expensive product he used in his quiff and just faintly sweaty – he really had _run_ to buy the condoms – Harry could drool, Louis smelled so good. The room around them was warm and Harry's nerves seemed to have burned up with the candles because he was just ready to feel it, feel _Louis_ for the rest of the night.

Louis thumbed over the head of Harry's cock and moaned, finding Harry already wet. He put his thumb in between Harry's lips and Harry sucked it off. He was amazed how something so obscene simply tasted nice. It was the final decider for him, that this wasn't sin or filthy or anything like that. It was beautiful.

“You're _so beautiful,_ ” Louis said like he'd read Harry's mind, trailing his now-wet fingertip over Harry's lower lip.

“Should I do something to you?” Harry asked timidly. “You know, with lube, and... you know?”

Louis smiled with his eyes crinkling up and his nice teeth on show. “Yes.” He loosened his grip on Harry and picked up the lube bottle, handing it over. “Only one finger, though. I want to stretch around your cock.”

The hungry way he said it made Harry's stomach leap.

Louis settled back on the bed with his knees bent up but shyly pressed together. Harry grabbed a pillow, and tapped Louis' hips so he raised them up. He slid it in under Louis' bottom, then sat himself down by his feet. It was just like the way they'd positioned themselves a month or so ago when Louis had first shown Harry how to do this, laying out all propped up and exposed.

Harry poured some lube out. Overenthusiastic, he missed his fingers completely and it spilled onto the bedspread. He quietly swore, pouring out more, actually onto his fingers this time. Louis giggled.

“Eager,” he commented.

“Of course I am,” Harry huffed, but then he smiled at Louis, who slowly spread his knees apart. Harry found Louis' hole with his wet fingers, slicking him up and then carefully pushing one finger in. Louis didn't so much sigh as aggressively push a breath out, clenching tight around Harry's finger.

“Fuck,” Louis gasped under his breath. “ _Yes..._ Eager for me?” “Yep.”

Harry looked down at his hand so intensely that his eyes blurred a bit. Just one finger in that hole now. One little finger, tight inside Louis' rim, framed by that soft, dark skin around it, hair shaved clean off. He felt Louis relax around him a bit, still cosy but not _tight tight tight._ He began to slide his finger in and out, reminding himself what it was like in there, all wet and soft and smooth and so warm. He heard Louis' breath pick up.

It felt like a dick could fit in there, probably. It would feel tight though, and maybe Harry wouldn't last long... but who cared tonight? He just wanted to feel Louis there like that.

There was this delicious burning desire in Harry's chest that he didn't mind prolonging for a few more minutes. He knew he'd have Louis before the night was over, and it was kind of nice to just _want_ for a moment more.

 _Eager for me,_ Louis had asked. Surely it was humanly impossible to _not_ be completely eager for this man in front of him, framing Harry with his legs, strong muscles and soft hair and bony ankles. Harry curled his finger up, and Louis gasped.

Harry meant to look up to Louis' face but his eyes got stuck on his stomach. His two small hands were resting on his tiny little pouch of soft belly, the black Chanel tattoo stark against his smooth skin. Harry thought it might be mean to just shove Louis' hands away, so he instead placed his free hand on top of Louis', stroking over the back of it.

“You're hiding,” Harry guessed, and he did now look at Louis' face for confirmation. Louis sighed, breath staggered as Harry pushed his finger in a little deeper into Louis' ass. “I'm not,” Louis lied.“Why?” Harry simply asked. He kept his finger in deep, like he could coax the truth out.

Louis let out a resigned sigh. “I've always looked good naked – looked good having sex,” he admitted. He hesitated before shutting his eyes, as if he could make himself invisible, and went on. “America's no good for me. Now I just look like someone who eats a kilo of cheese for dinner. Someone who's eaten enough Ben and Jerry's to list his top five favourite flavours in order. Someone -”

“Someone who's got a boyfriend who thinks he's beautiful,” Harry said firmly. “I'd take Ben & Jerry's in a blanket fort over a six-pack any day.”

Louis reopened his eyes and drew his fingers away from his stomach, snaking them through Harry's instead.

“You look good, and you feel good,” Harry said vehemently. He edged forward and sat up a bit, letting his hard cock press into one of Louis' thighs. “See?” he slowly wheedled. “I like the way you look. I want to have sex with _you_.”

Louis' eyes opened wide in excitement, and he licked his lips.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Ready,” Harry replied, taking his finger out.

“Then _fuck me,_ ” Louis urged. His hand flew out, grabbing over the bedsheets until he found the strip of condoms, passing them to Harry.

Harry tore one condom off and opened the small packet. Louis had already sat up and was holding the bottle of lube, squirting some into the palm of his hand while Harry put the condom on.

It felt... glove-like. A little awkward, sort of like he'd rolled an elastic band down to bottom of his dick. It wasn't bad - he'd put weirder things on his dick before, when he was trying to not- masturbate via loopholes. A condom felt a lot more mature than that. He could definitely work with this, it was tremendously exciting. He was mere seconds away from having sex.

“I don't know any, like...” Harry aimlessly waved his hand in the air, embarrassed. “Sex positions.”

“If it's okay with you, I'd like to lie down.” As Louis spoke he ran his hand over Harry's cock, spreading the lube over the condom around it. Harry was pretty sure some precome dripped out from that alone, trapped inside the condom. “So you can set the pace,” Louis explained. “As long as you promise to be gentle at the start. If you're on top, you're free stop quickly if you need, without having to get me off you first.”

Harry could work with that, but he didn't want Louis facing away. “Will you lie on your back, then? So you can see me and tell me what to do?”

Louis nodded – and then he laughed.

“What?”

“That's called missionary position. _Missionary!_ ” he poked Harry in the stomach.

Harry giggled. “Fitting.” He glanced down at his cock, big and hard and flushed, wrapped in a condom and wet with lube. He could feel Louis looking at him, but he wasn't sure how to start.

“What now?” he whispered.“Now you kiss me,” Louis suggested, sitting his butt down on the bed with his legs spread apart.

He patted in between his knees and Harry sat there, nervously leaning in.

Once their lips met, all Harry's nervous thoughts disappeared. He couldn't even remember what there was to be afraid of. His brain was quiet, only knowing this frantic physical need of how badly he wanted to be inside Louis. He just wanted to feel good, he wanted to make Louis feel good, he wanted to come inside someone instead of in his pants for once.

Louis lowered himself down onto his back, arms gently guiding Harry to lean over him.

\-----

Louis trailed his eyes over the creamy skin of Harry's soft stomach, his flushed chest, those fucking _sultry_ lips, all the way up to stop at his green eyes. That residual nervousness that Louis had sensed earlier was now completely gone. His boy just seemed determined, and terribly excited.

Lifting his feet up, Louis rested his ankles on Harry's thighs then reached down between his legs to hold Harry's cock, guiding it towards his hole. “Okay?”

“Say _mon petit_ ,” Harry whispered, placing a shaking hand on the outside of each of Louis' thighs. There was something so vulnerable about him. It was obvious Harry wanted it, but Harry seemed to also know exactly how he wanted it to go. Louis could tell that he needed it sweet: reassurances and promises and a lot of love every step of the way.

“Mon petit. Mon petit- _ami_ ,” Louis said gently, looking up at Harry who looked right back. “T'es _mon_ bon garçon, oui?”

“Yep.”

“You're so beautiful, Harry,” Louis said, squeezing the base of Harry's cock. That close to his ass, Louis couldn't help but briefly assess what he held. Harry was very hard and incredibly thick and long, too. Louis hoped he could take it well. He wasn't exactly nervous, he knew his body wouldn't be too jittery like Harry's had been, and he'd taken big cocks before... but he hadn't had sex in a couple of months. It mightn't be _easy._

He suddenly realised he'd never _not_ had sex with the same person for so long.“You're so special to me,” Louis whispered. “You don't even know how much. But I'm going to show you.”Harry smiled at Louis, then he took a deep breath and stared down at his cock, biting his lip. “Kiss me,” Louis requested.

Harry leant in close, kissing Louis fast and hard with the kind of urgency that only came right before fucking. Louis felt his entire pelvis light up and he wasn't cautious about Harry's size anymore, his entire body was _screaming_ for Harry to fill him up, everything trembling in impatient wait as the tip of Harry's cock nudged up against him. Every split-second Louis wasn't being fucked down into the mattress was agony.

His whole body was aching with how close he was to it. Still kissing Harry, Louis rocked his hips up a fraction and just like that, Harry was pushing into him, the head of his cock sliding snug into Louis' tight rim. A high little whine escaped from Harry's lips. His face was close enough that Louis couldn't properly bring it into focus, but he could see Harry's rose lips were open in the most beautiful stunned look.

Louis made sure to relax, lest he twitched too tight and pushed Harry back out. It had been a while since he'd had sex, sure, but it hadn't been so long that he'd forgotten it. He remembered what sex was like, and he couldn't recall a single time that came even close to how wonderful this tiny moment had already been.

“All good?” Louis checked.

Harry just let out his breath; a long, low sigh, slowly nodding in amazement. Louis let go of Harry's cock and wiped lube off on the sheets, before moving both hands towards where Harry's were holding his legs. He smoothed over his own thighs until his fingers met the spaces between each of Harry's.

“I love you,” Harry weakly lilted.

“I love _you_.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Harry said. His eyes met Louis', questioning his next move.

“You won't hurt me,” Louis promised. “If you keep going, _or_ if we stop right here.”

“You think I want to stop?” Harry asked, incredulous. The head of his cock stayed right there in Louis' rim, gently warming him to it.

“I thought I'd check,” Louis said diplomatically, grinning a bit.

“You're fucking crazy,” Harry exhaled. He leant up, looking right down so he could see his cock inside Louis' hole. Louis was practically jealous, wishing he could see the sight himself.

Harry slowly pushed his hips in further, stretching Louis out over his shaft. “Oh my _god,_ ” he said loudly.

He was slow and steady and so fucking perfect that Louis was already seeing stars, feeling his strong tight muscles slowly being pushed open, everything in him making way for Harry. It was god damned ecstasy.

“ _C'est tellement bon avec toi,_ ” Louis whimpered. He couldn't believe how different it was to _love_ someone and hold their hands. He could just spiral off into into bliss at the fact that he and Harry were becoming one, embodying their love. He stayed focussed though, grounding himself so he was there in entirety for Harry.

Louis thought he knew sex but this was all oddly unfamiliar, this mix of _Harry_ and Harry _inside_ him and _love._ Louis couldn't pinpoint his limit as clearly as he normally did, but there definitely wasn't harm in pausing.

“Wait there for a sec, oui?” he asked.

Harry quickly stilled his hips and Louis was grateful that despite being a hormone-ridden teenager, Harry had the self control to do so. Louis resisted the urge to clench tight onto Harry and instead just waited in stillness, feeling himself again relax as he warmed up to it.

“Do _you_ want to stop?” Harry asked gratuitously.“I never, ever want this to stop,” Louis declared. “Give me more.”

\-----

Carefully entering Louis, Harry was hazy in this mix of _it's actually happening_ and _I love him so much_ and _don't come yet don't come yet don't come yet_. He wasn't totally sure what he should do after this bit, how sex was supposed to go once he was inside Louis, so it was nice to just be relatively still and get a feel for it all. It was more than nice it, it was incredible, and – _don't effing come yet -_ he could feel Louis tight around him, much more snug than a blowjob and completely different too. That was that, and this was... sex.

“Do you want to come closer?” Louis asked.

Harry slowly pushed his cock in even further, Louis' tight hole sliding down him. Harry couldn't help making sounds. He'd never in a million years imagined hearing himself sound so debauched, gasping and groaning low as he watched his cock disappear deep into Louis. It looked almost absurd, that an asshole could be stretched that wide, and – frick, it looked so fucking hot; so completely explicit, so outrageously graphic and quite possibly the most beautiful thing Harry had ever laid eyes on.

Harry slipped one of his hands out from under Louis' and ran two fingertips over Louis' lubed-up, stretched-tight rim. Louis _wailed._ His skin was just as soft as it had always been and Harry wanted to touch it forever, trace the perimeter of where he was half-buried inside somewhere so private – but he wanted to go deeper, too, so he took his hand out of the way and pushed in a little more.

Louis was loud - incredibly loud. He moaned in a way that sounded so urgent. Just how badly he wanted Harry was clear. His hands reached for Harry's back, clawing at him and pulling him in closer until Harry's hips had met Louis' ass. Harry was really inside Louis now, engulfed by this special, secret part of him. Louis lay there, hands splayed over Harry's back, his fit body looking so brilliantly naked and rude beneath Harry.

Harry bit his lip and paused, too scared to move. “I might come from this,” he stammered out. He didn't feel guilty about it, as such. It was his first time and Louis wouldn't care. Harry just wanted to warn him, at least.

Louis began quietly laughing below him, beaming as pure sunlight sparkled from his eyes. “That's sort of the point, _non?_ Just have fun.”

Harry pulled his hips back, relishing the way Louis's rim moved close over him. He got a sudden surprise when Louis whined high in his throat, and he snapped his eyes up to see. Louis' brow was furrowed and his jaw was open and he just looked completely desperate.

“Are you good?” Harry checked.

“Better if you fucked me,” Louis said breathlessly, eyes cautious on Harry as if to check it was okay to say that.

It was more than okay. Harry pushed back in, not too roughly but much, much faster this time and Louis groaned loudly, like he was saying _finally_.

Harry understood that, as he continued moving his hips, pushing his cock in and out of Louis. He was having sex, he was finally having sex, and it was with Louis. It was _perfect._

“I don't want to go too fast,” Harry apologised, backing off to an easier pace. This was a monumental night in his life, he didn't want it to be over in just seconds. He wanted to savour it.

“Baby, you're in control,” Louis emphasised. “Just come here, kiss me.”

Harry leant over Louis on his elbows. He felt so perfectly, incredibly _close_ to him. It was surprisingly easy to keep up a steady rhythm, the feeling in his body keeping him in time. Harry tried to just hold something there inside him, not let his orgasm escape too soon. It felt really, really good. Every tiny fraction his cock slid inside Louis sent enormous pleasure all over his body.

That type of pleasure, in those parts of his body, had never been this _electric;_ his palms were sweating in balled-up fists and the entire thing was just... miraculous. Harry had never felt so cohesively whole before. He'd never been so out of his mind and into the physical – he'd done sports before, pushed his body and trained hard, but that was more _where's the ball catch the ball_ and this... this was _my body, your body, our bodies._ Every part of him felt what he was doing. Every part of his body felt good.

Louis picked up his own cock in one hand and gripped the back of Harry's neck with the other, pulling Harry's face in close enough to kiss him as he jerked himself off.

“ _Fuck._ 'Arry – please,” Louis groaned into Harry's neck, writhing his hips up against him. His fingertips pushed in tight on Harry's neck like he was hanging on for dear life. “ _Ça fait vraiment du bien. 'Arry, T'es... t'es à moi - oui, oui!_ ” he cried out.

Harry only understood half of the French. If he was a bit calmer he could have thought about it properly, worked out more of it in his head, but he wasn't calm, not even a tiny bit, because his dick was deep inside Louis and Louis was acting like it was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

And what if it actually was?

“Fuck. _Fuck,_ ” Louis whined, arching his back so high his waist left the mattress. Harry slid his hands underneath Louis' back, pressing his palms below Louis' shoulderblades. Louis widened his legs apart so Harry could get in even closer and Harry dropped his forehead into the mattress, cheek pressed to Louis' cheek, hot breath leaving Louis' ear wet.

Every single thrust had Harry's pleasure building in a way he wasn't familiar with, preemptively mindblown from knowing that when he came, he was going to come inside Louis.

Louis was making noise in time with each of Harry's thrusts, gasps and _ahh_ s and at one point he cried out, “ _Fuck me!_ ” then began profusely apologising for swearing; “I'm sorry – shit, I'm – God, you're too good to be talked to like that – I shouldn't -”

“I like it,” Harry interrupted, already too raw and exposed to care about being too honest. “Keep talking.”

Louis groaned loudest yet and buried his face in Harry's neck, sucking hard on his skin and biting him and grinding his hips up against Harry.

“Seriously, please keep talking,” Harry whispered. It was a plea. He knew for sure that he didn't want to stop, but he also couldn't fully silence that one small part of his brain from going off. He'd done it, he wasn't a virgin any more. There was no going back now. That had implications, but Harry didn't want to think about them, not about _sin_ and _gay_ and _hell,_ not right now.

Louis seemed to know exactly what Harry needed to hear, impeded only by his own urgent need to make noise, but he did a wonderful job considering. “'Arry, you're so fucking _good,_ mon bon garçon,” he said hoarsely, shakily panting before he spoke again. “You're fucking wonderful, shit – oh, _shit,_ 'Arry,” he yelled, “Look at you, my God, you're so fucking pretty, you're absolutely beautiful, you look so good like this – oh, baby. You're so good. You're a fucking angel,” Louis whimpered, moving his head in close so Harry would kiss him.

Harry slid his cock halfway out and paused to kiss Louis properly: soft lips and gentle tongue and _together together together._

“I love you, my darling boy,” Louis whispered so tenderly, stroking his thumb over Harry's neck – then exploded in loud obscenities again as Harry thrust back into him.

Harry lost some of his self-control and began to pump much faster, practically flying in and out of Louis. It felt wonderful and he kept chasing it - until he accidentally pulled back too far and slipped right out. Before he'd realised it had happened he'd thrust back, cock bumping over Louis' inner thigh.

“Oh my god,” Harry cried out in horror, hands on the mattress to balance himself. “I'm so sorry, I – _frick!_ ”

“Hey, it's fine,” Louis said, his voice clear and loud. He smiled kindly up at Harry as he reached for his cock again. “It happens.”

“I'm so effing clumsy,” Harry apologised, panting.“No, really, it happens,” Louis laughed. “You didn't hurt yourself, did you?” “No, just like – slipped over you.” Harry cringed.

“Okay. Well. Stick it back in,” Louis permitted.“Just like that?”Louis slowly blinked his eyes, smiling to himself. “Just like that. Come back.”

Harry gave in to Louis' hand as Louis brought him back in close and lined Harry's cock up to his rim. Then Harry pushed forward and watched in amazement as he simply disappeared inside Louis again.

“Incredible.”

Harry didn't really know what sex was _supposed_ to look like, how it was meant to go exactly. He hadn't seen that much porn in his life, maybe it wasn't meant to go the way Harry had directed them in – but whatever they were doing was working very, very well. Harry was surprised by the way Louis moved below him – with every thrust Harry made, Louis' ass was pushed forward, his whole body digging up into the mattress, his head nudging against the pillows. It felt so much like... like Harry was doing something to Louis, doing something with Louis. Like they were connected. Anything Harry did, Louis would feel it too.

\-----

Harry was making the most beautiful little noises Louis had ever heard, pretty little whimpers and golden gasps. In stark contrast, Louis himself was only half-successful in biting back filth, like _fuck_ and _oui_ and _shit, yes,_ and at one point he even hissed _fucking give it to me harder,_ then realised he'd spoken out loud – and not even in French. In any other situation it would have made him feel a million miles away from Harry, like the boy was so pure and beautiful and far too _good_ for a man like Louis, but this wasn't any other situation. Louis could feel Harry moving inside of him and when he opened his eyes Harry was right there, all warmth and sweat movement and saying a soft little, “Yeah?” after everything Louis said, inviting him to say more.

His cock was heaven, so fucking big but stretching Louis in the most exhausting, blissful way, never moving in a way that hurt him. “Perfect fucking fit,” Louis hissed through his teeth. He barely had to jerk himself off, just kept a tight fist around his cock. Harry's belly was pressing against Louis' hand between them, and the motion of Harry's thrusts was sensation enough to have Louis after his own orgasm just as fast as Harry was.

Louis rocked his hips up, bringing his knees away from Harry's sides and up towards his own shoulders, opening himself up even further. Harry thrust in again and then gasped in surprise at how deep he was. He gave a soft little, “Oh!” and then a frantic, breathy, “You're really good at this, Louis!”

“Slow down,” Louis gently instructed. “I want your hips in close, stay close.”

He didn't know if he'd explained it properly, couldn't think about English right now, just needed Harry to stay there, near enough to kiss.

Maybe Harry had been right about what he'd said, ' _I understand you',_ because he did it perfectly; instead of thrusting far back he kept his body in tight, crooking his hips against Louis' ass. Every time his cock slid deep inside Louis, it pushed Louis closer to coming - he moaned so loud he felt it scratch through his throat.

Louis reached his other hand down to Harry's ass and gripped at him. Harry was awkward for a moment, not sure where to follow Louis' guiding pull - but then he gave a small exhalation, like he'd realised. He shoved his hips in close - _Fuck,_ Harry was so _big –_ and he ground himself in hard, his cock pushing a lazy circle deep inside the tight walls of Louis' hole. Louis felt a drop of precome glide out to his tight fist. He kept his other hand on Harry's ass, feeling his muscles move as he ground his hips in harder circle again. Harry let out a low, shocked moan.

“Baby?” Louis prompted. “Mon petit?”“It's so... _wow!_ ” Harry peeped. “Can't believe it – right inside you, all the - I can't believe you just... _god,_ Louis!” he whined, shaking.Louis dug his fingers harder into Harry's ass, his hand slipping over his sweaty skin. “This was worth waiting for.”

Harry's eyes went wild at that, and he began fucking against Louis with more force. “Yeah?” he asked. “You've been waiting for this?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Louis emphasised, his words jerking out from their movement. “I didn't even miss other men – oh, _fuck -_ it's been you from the start. Oh – christ _-_ Harry! _Harry!_ Fuck me, please, _fuck_ me, I'm so close,” he frantically urged.

Louis let go of his cock and slid his hands along the mattress, pushing under Harry's so they were holding hands. Harry happily did as Louis had told him, thrusting his hips in and out so fast that his balls slapped against Louis' skin.

“I'm going to come,” Louis suddenly stated. It wasn't eloquent, but he didn't have time for that, he needed Harry to be right with him when it happened.

“Really?” Harry questioned, like he couldn't actually believe he was skilled enough to bring it about.

“Fucking get down here,” Louis hissed. “Kiss me.”

\-----

Harry leant down to press his stomach against Louis' cock. He kept moving his hips hard as he thrust in and out of Louis' warm hole, that seemed to be pulsing even tighter around him in beats. Louis' hips were twitching under Harry, jerking up to meet every thrust, and under Harry's kiss Louis was the quietest he'd been all night – until he began whimpering high-pitched and squeezing Harry's hands tight. He whispered, “Faster,” then pressed his lips to Harry's, kissing right into his mouth.

He felt Louis' body freeze underneath his, and then Louis was groaning low and Harry felt hot come spilling over their chests and then he knew he could finally have release too. The thought of coming with his boyfriend took him over the edge.

Harry gasped nonsense, _thank you_ and _I love you_ , and came mind-numbingly hard inside Louis, like everything they'd shared had been leading to this point where Harry slammed his hips deep inside Louis' ass, his arms aching from supporting his own weight. Harry's body jerked and strange sounds escaped his mouth as he let go completely, exploding in pleasure and _Louis_.

Harry gave a few more slow thrusts, almost sad it was over, and then he let his arms go completely weak and laid down on Louis, nose pressed against Louis' sweaty cheek as they caught their breath. He wondered for a second if it was okay to stay in there like that, but Louis' hands held on to his tight and he stroked Harry's thumb with his own and it definitely didn't seem like he wanted Harry out & off him in a hurry.

After a while, Harry felt himself getting soft and smaller so he pried his hands out of Louis' and leant right back up. Like Louis had told him, he held the base of the condom as he pulled out.

Harry hadn't thought about how there'd be _come_ inside the condom now, hanging obscene and heavy in the end as he pulled it off his dick and tied it in a knot. He hesitated, holding it in his hand.

Louis hoarsely chuckled and said, “Drop it on the floor, I don't even care right now,” so Harry did just that. No sooner than it hit the carpet, Louis' hands were grabbing Harry's waist, hauling him back down onto the bed and into his arms, skin sticking with sweat.

Harry felt like he was glowing from the inside out. He could burst from how much love he felt for Louis, who was stroking his fingertips over Harry's sides and pushing his trembling knees up against Harry's own, nuzzling his nose against Harry's cheek then leaning back to look at him.

“Je t'aime,” Louis whispered.“How'd you say it back?” Harry asked.“You say, ' _Je t'aime aussi',_ ” Louis spoke the words slow and clear.

“Je t'aime aussi.” Harry listened to the words come out of his own mouth, and although he'd just copied what Louis said, it didn't sound as nice. Louis' words were somehow gravel and silk at once. Harry's were clunking out of his mouth with this American twang he hadn't meant to put there.

Louis still smiled, crinkling up his nose and eyes glittering in happiness like it was the best thing he'd ever heard. Harry kissed him, both their lips moving lazy and tired.

After a quiet moment, Louis carefully started, “'Arry.” “Mm-hm?”

“You cried the first time I fingered you,” he awkwardly recalled. “It's okay if you need to cry now.”

Harry thought about it as he gazed into Louis' blue eyes. “Good to know,” he thanked Louis. “But I don't. I think I'm really over feeling sad and confused about... sex-stuff. And guy-stuff.”

“ _I'm_ your guy,” Louis mumbled, bashful. “Homo,” Harry whispered, suppressing a giggle.

“ _Pardon?_ ” Louis' accent was thick with incredulousness as he leant back, frowning cautiously at Harry.

“Homo,” Harry repeated, and he did start laughing. “The opposite of _no homo,_ you know _?_ Tonight was played out with full gay intent,” he finished proudly.

Louis laughed too, loud but slowly, almost an expression of relief as he tightened his arms around Harry. “ _Full 'omo,_ ” he repeated in his French accent.

The next time Louis spoke, he sounded slightly sad. “I don't know what I'm going to do when we get back to the Modern Missionary team. It's been nice here: my arm around you in the subway, kissing you at the market, your hand on my leg at the restaurant. You know we can't be like that much more.” It sounded like an apology.

“We can be like _this,_ ” Harry reminded him. “I mean... I know we have to be careful, with the hotel rooms – but. We get this.” He nudged Louis, and kissed his arm. “Pillow talk.”

Louis smiled. “I'll take it. For now. It won't always have to be like that, right?”

Harry would have blushed, but he was naked and sweaty and not a virgin any more and didn't know if he'd ever be shy around Louis again. “So you think we'll be together for longer the three months left of the show?” he tentatively asked.

“ _Oui,_ ” Louis said, shutting his eyes. “How high can you count in French?” “Ten, I think,” Harry said.“Learn twenty. Learn one hundred. You'll have a lot of months to count.” Harry kissed Louis' nose, leant his forehead against him, and shut his eyes too.

He might have even fallen asleep for a moment, but then Louis shifted and asked, “Shower?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He felt boneless and tired, but they were both was sweaty and had Louis' come on their chests and Harry knew it would be a rush to the airport in the morning, so he made himself sit up.

Louis didn't let go of him once, although it wasn't entirely practical – hands held as they clambered off the bed and paused to pick up the used condom, they walked naked to the bathroom together. Harry waited while Louis turned on the shower one-handed. He pulled Harry under the stream and into his arms and kissed him as the water fell down over them.

 


	27. Chapter 27

A siren outside woke Harry up early in the morning. It was startling to realise there was a whole world of other people out there. Things were happening: someone had accidentally set their kitchen on fire, or broken a leg, or had their shop robbed. This was the first morning of Harry's life that he wasn't a virgin, it felt _monumental._ Yet the world was turning as usual.

Of course, 'as usual' meant waking up with an erection that was difficult to ignore – and why try? Harry briefly pondered how much time they had before they had to go to the airport, and then he wondered if he could deal with the disappointment of his body not cooperating again... but he was hard and horny and Louis was so wonderfully beautiful, soft morning light and hair falling free with no product in it and his eyes closed in peaceful sleep and he was _Harry's_ and gosh, Harry was so _hard_.

Louis had slept soundly through the noise, his body warm and still next to Harry's, his long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. Harry carefully untangled himself from Louis' loose embrace and levered himself off the bed, pausing for a moment to make sure Louis hadn't stirred before grabbing that little black bag and tiptoeing off to the bathroom.

Harry locked the door, not quite ready for Louis to walk in on him in such a compromising position. He reached in between his legs, then tried from behind and decided the latter was easier. Putting some lube on his fingers, he then set the bottle down on by the sink – apparently not steadily enough, as it toppled over and rolled on to the floor with a clatter. Harry froze, wet fingers mid-air, some lube dripping down onto the tiles... but all was quiet for another moment, Louis apparently sleeping through it all that morning.

Freshly determined, Harry poured out some more lube, deciding that _less is more_ would never apply when it came to bum stuff. He placed one foot up on the edge of the bath and touched his hole. _Sin, sin, sin,_ flashed through his mind, and he countered it with, _shut up, shut up, shut up,_ and a few firm tugs of his cock. He concentrated on Louis, how sweet he looked when he slept, and the big four poster bed out there... and _sex_. Harry wasn't exactly turned on, he was hurrying too much and too antsy to see if it would work, but he wasn't at all anxious like he had been the night before.

His finger slid in easily. It didn't feel incredible like when Louis did it. It felt more like putting your finger inside something than having a finger inside you. It was all a bit too practical and striving, not just lying back and letting it happen. Either way it _was_ happening, though, as Harry bit his lip and breathed through his nose as he pushed in a second finger. It felt incredibly tight for a bit and then he relaxed some - and then he thought about what Louis had said the night before; “ _I want to stretch around your cock._ ”

Harry quickly tried a third. When that too was fine, he pulled all three fingers out and wiped them off on a towel. He tugged on his lower lip as he assessed the bottle of lube, not sure exactly how much he'd need – he decided to add a bit more, awkwardly bending over and squirting it straight on. It was cold straight onto the skin like that, and Harry jumped a little.

He then unlocked the door again and resolutely went back out to the bed, bum cheeks slipping over each other as he walked.

\-----

Louis woke up to Harry in bed behind him. He was running his hands over Louis' back, kissing his neck, not bothering to keep his erection from pressing into Louis' ass – which was fine, because the way Harry was touching him had already gotten Louis hard before he'd even opened his eyes.

Most times in the past, Harry had touched Louis with curiosity, like his hands were exploring each inch of him. This time, he was moving with sureness. He touched Louis in a way that showed he knew him, knew exactly when he would hit a hipbone or a nipple or a small scar. He knew the parts where his hands would fit perfectly. His fingers traced down Louis' spine like he had each bump memorised, kneaded into the muscles that he knew would make Louis melt further into the bed.

“Good morning, mon petit,” Louis murmured drowsily, finding Harry's hands to hold, wrapping the boy's arms around him tighter.

“Good morning, _mon copain,_ ” Harry replied.

Louis breathed in, just enjoying lying with Harry in that space between asleep and awake. He didn't want to open his eyes to check the time, but he hoped it was ridiculously early, wanting hours and hours left of New York with Harry.

After a moment, Harry quietly asked Louis to, “Roll over?”

“Sure.” Louis turned over. Harry did too so Louis could take a turn spooning him, hand resting on his bare hip, cosy under the covers. Harry's skin was so soft and warm and his hair in front of Louis' eyes was all silky loose curls from being slept on.

“I'm so in love with you,” Louis whispered. He squeezed Harry in tight for a split-second before pulling back. “You're wet!” he said, confused.

“A-huh. Sorry. Got a bit messy,” Harry said brusquely. “Um. I got up before you were awake.” Louis moved his hand back – all the way back, to Harry's ass. Harry hadn't lied; Louis found him thoroughly slick with lube. Louis moved his fingertips closer to Harry's hole and Harry softly gasped, shifting his thigh forward to expose himself more.

“What've you done?” Louis asked carefully.

“Checked to see if I'm as nervous as I was last night. And I don't think I am.” Harry ran his fingers over Louis' arm, the one between Harry's neck and the bed, and when he reached the end he linked his fingers through Louis'. “I'm definitely not, so... you can have sex with me now, if you want,” Harry said in a hurry. “And if what you said about getting tested was true then you don't have to use a condom if you don't want to.”

Louis tightened his grip on Harry's hand and with his other he continued to stroke at Harry's rim. His hole felt soft and smooth and pliant, and when Harry took a deliberate breath, Louis slowly pushed one finger into Harry's hole. Harry was deliciously tight, but his body stayed relaxed in front of Louis. Louis tried a second finger and Harry took it just as well with nothing but a soft, “ _Ooh!_ ” and an arching of his back, trying to get more.

Louis gently pushed down towards Harry's prostate. Harry moaned, shifting his top thigh even further, so his knee was almost at his chest.

Louis didn't have it in him to wait a second longer.

He grabbed his cock and held it between Harry's asscheeks, rocking his hips back and forth so he ran along the cleft of Harry's ass, getting his cock slick-smooth from the lube Harry had spread there. That thought alone was hot enough; Louis _groaned_ , imagining Harry fingering himself open mere minutes ago, getting himself ready to be _fucked_.

“You're sure?” Louis asked, squeezing his cock in his hand as if he didn't already know he was as hard as he could ever be.

“Hundred percent,” Harry said seriously. “It's _you,_ Louis. Of course I'm sure. I know you, you'll do everything right.”

Louis kept running his hand over himself, knuckles grazing Harry's ass. He still felt sleepy and relaxed, but his heart was beating hard. He wasn't hesitating out of uncertainty. It was like in a museum, looking at a painting from across the room for a moment before walking over to it and seeing it properly. Louis would probably have a heart attack if he dived right in straight away. Harry was so wonderful, taking him in from the cusp was enough.

“You're sure, no condom?” Louis checked.

“Yes, I want to...” Harry paused. “You know.”

“Say it,” Louis ordered.

Harry took in a breath as if he was about to talk, but then giggled.

“Shh,” Louis insisted, feeling precome glide out of him as he fisted over his cock, nudging right up against Harry's rim. “ _Say it._ ”

“Want you to come inside me,” Harry indulged Louis, wriggling his hips back up against Louis' cock. “Just, like... have me, and come in my bum. I mean, ass. Just - fill me _up_ , I want to be all hot and close with you under the covers like you said.”

Louis let out an involuntary little moan. God, Harry was good once he got going. “That's it,” he whispered, stopping his hand and sliding it down to the base of his cock, lining the tip of it right up to Harry's rim. He gave himself a little shake so his head rubbed over Harry's hole

Harry gave an impatient, needy little wine and wiggled his hips.“ _Mon bon garçon._ You want it so fucking bad, don't you?”“I want _you,_ ” Harry quickly corrected Louis. “I want this, I want us, I want you. I love you.” “And I love you,” Louis said.

Harry let out a deep breath then moved his hips back, assertively seeking Louis. Realising it was about to happen, a burning hot urgency shot briefly through Louis' lower belly just once. It was as if Harry himself was rippling through Louis, like Louis' body knew they were about to become one.

Louis held his cock straight and moved his hips forward, and Harry edged back until his rim opened over Louis, sliding down over the head of his cock. Harry whimpered, hand tight over Louis' in front of them. He kept moving slowly, backing down onto Louis.

By the time Harry had taken him halfway, Louis had let his head loll forward, the feeling so powerful he couldn't help but bite it out onto the skin of Harry's shoulder, hissing his pleasure against him. In absolute wonder, Louis took his hand away from his cock as Harry didn't stop, not until his little ass met Louis' hips, Louis deep inside his strong, wet heat.

“Harry, you're _heaven._ ” Louis' voice cracked with feeling, but he was too filled with love to find room for embarrassment too. He wanted to rip the covers back and _look_ , see how Harry had taken him practically all in one go – but there was something so sweet to be hidden under the sheets together, soft and warm. It was perfect for Harry. Perfect for Louis' boy who was so good that he deserved to be protected from the outside world.

And he'd let Louis in.

Louis slid his hand between Harry's thighs, lifting Harry's upper leg. He pushed his cock in the last little bit, and Harry whined – that high, frantic one he made when things were feeling far too good, far too soon.

“Oh, god. Kiss me,” Louis urged, leaning up over Harry as best he could. Harry turned his head up, and Louis properly saw his face for the first time that morning, all green eyes and bitten lips, keenly leaning up to be kissed.

As soon as their lips met Louis pulled his hips away, then pushed his cock all the way back into Harry's smooth hole again. Harry squeaked and Louis gasped, his tongue finding Harry's as they kissed. The sensitive head of his cock and his entire shaft were now enveloped in Harry's slick hole, all tight and impossibly soft and wet and somehow better than anyone he'd felt before, even better than touching Harry there with his fingers.

Louis had fucked porn stars and celebrities, he'd fucked in dark corners of crowded adult clubs and he'd ripped holes in ten-thousand-dollar clothing to fuck _through_ haute couture, and there was absolutely no doubt that this quiet under-the-covers morning with Harry was the most thrilling thing Louis had ever experienced.

Louis could hardly stand it a second longer, he didn't have anything left inside him but the need to just lose himself in it. He began to fuck into Harry, his perfect, tight little hole – not a virgin any more – and Harry wailed and gripped the sheets in front of him, whining, “Louis, oh my – _Louis,_ ” so fervently Louis thought his own heart might explode. Somehow he knew, he could just tell, that his boy was going to come from this alone – and, merde, _Louis_ would be the one to fuck Harry through it.

He stayed propped up, watching Harry's face, whose eyes flickered from unfocused to meeting Louis' and then drifting again. _Putain_ , Louis had no idea what time it was, he might have no choice but to drag Harry through the airport like this, all flushed red with kiss-blurred lips and shining eyes in front of _everyone_.

Louis had gone from sleepy to fucking Harry and _then_ to wide awake. Having woken up into the state of fucking Harry had left him in a primal mindset, just doing what felt _good_ : hard, sharp thrusts into Harry's ass, biting and kissing his skin, indulging any sound that escaped his uninhibited throat. He needed Harry to feel and hear everything so he'd know Louis was there with him - always.

Louis had never been one for jealousy, men were dime-a-dozen - but this was his Harry, who had Louis' name on his lips, so small in a giant bed and taking Louis like it was what his body was made for. Harry was completely irreplaceable to him.

Louis couldn't stand the thought of anyone else doing this to Harry. Harry was so wonderful, so _good._ In some sort of irrational panic, Louis' heart _ached_ to think of anyone ever hurting Harry, taking advantage of him, giving him anything less than he deserved – because two nights in a suite in the Plaza and custom clothing and French cheese was the barest of bare minimum that Harry deserved.

Louis let go of Harry's leg, giving an approving hum as Harry kept it bent up. He smoothed his hand over Harry's skin, hot and sweat-damp under the bedsheets, moving up to his waist. He held on to Harry tight, tucking his chin over Harry's shoulder as he thrust in and out of him, all fast and smooth, listening to Harry's panting and whining.

Louis' cock had pulses of pleasure swooping through it, tingles dissipating up through his belly, fucking mindless in a realisation that should have been so fucking obvious from the start; Harry was the absolute best Louis would ever have.

“Is it good?” Louis asked, kissing up Harry's neck.“ _A-huh!_ ” came Harry's reply, voice high and finding no real words, but certain.

“Good,” Louis said vehemently. “You deserve the best, Harry. You deserve the whole fucking world.”

\-----

Louis cock moved inside Harry in a way that felt completely different to fingers. He felt so full, not in an invasive way, but... meant-to-be. Harry was breathing ragged and felt wet with sweat but he felt like this should be his default, and any time him and Louis hadn't come together as one was just time spent waiting until they could do this again.

Harry gasped and turned his head to seek a clumsy kiss and maybe virginity wasn't that important at all because it was just as incredible as it had been the night before. Louis' cock was pressing deep inside Harry and the feeling shot right through his belly and his cock and he was going to come soon and he knew it would always be magical, the next time they did this, every time they did this, forever, forever, _forever,_ Harry might have even let the word slip out of his lips.

“We do have time to do this, right?” Harry checked. Louis' thrusts pushed the squeaky words out of him, giving his sentence strange emphasis. It was a odd thing to be asking in the middle of sex but Harry couldn't think straight. Should he have at least packed before he started this? It couldn't be good to be irresponsible about sex in any small way – oh, goodness, Louis felt _good –_ what if they missed their flight?

“Do you think I give a fuck, 'Arry?” Louis cried, hand holding Harry's hip in place as his cock moved out of Harry then beat in again fast, over and over. “I'll book a later flight, I'll buy a fucking private plane, I don't care. No one's taking this away from me.”

Harry's whole body swelled with pride.

Harry might one day laugh at how absurdly _loud_ Louis was, might never use another adjective to describe him again, but for now it felt perfect. Even his small shouts sounded French-accented. And then there were his _words_. Louis was hissing out expletives in this mindless way. Harry wondered if Louis even knew he was talking; “ _Your fucking ass, you're perfect,_ ” and “ _Merde, you're so tight,_ ” and “ _You're such a good boy, God, you're so fucking good, you take it so well._ ”

There was even less sensical strains of French and English expletives, and then in somehow- harmonious juxtaposition, Louis was shouting some things that were completely different but just as good to hear; “ _You know I love you, oui? I love you so fucking much,_ ” and “ _I'm here, I'm always going to be here,_ ” and “ _You're the most perfect thing I've ever seen,_ ” and “ _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ ” over and over and over again.

“I am yours, you know,” Harry said softly, although it was impossible to keep his tone steady. It was too hard talk properly when Louis was moving fast inside him, Harry's back clammy against Louis' chest and a steady simmer inside him, knowing he wouldn't last long before he came - but he had to say it. “You keep – you say I'm - I'm my own person... no one can tell me what to do. But -” Harry cut himself off with a whimper, biting his lip as his legs shuddered, jerking weakly under the way Louis was moving inside him. “If I'm going to – I don't listen...” Harry squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on just getting the words out. “I make my own choices. _I chose you._ ”

Harry would have guessed Louis would object, insist that, _no, you are your own person_ – but Louis surprised him. He slowed down completely, dragging his cock in and out of Harry with a near-torturous slowness. Louis loosed his arm from around Harry too and stroked light fingers all over him, sweat making their skin drag together.

Louis rubbed over one of Harry's nipples, giving it a light squeeze. Very, very softly, he asked, “You promise?”

Harry shivered, from the drawn-out, lazy way Louis was moving. It was like he was turning their small moment together into infinite time; each action that could have taken a nanosecond was now taking several seconds, like Louis had the power to stop time itself so he and Harry could be together forever.

Harry had almost forgotten the question, when Louis repeated it. “You're really mine?”

Harry liked when Louis was soft and tender like that. Harry could tell when Louis was gentle for Harry's sake, but it was these rarer moments that Harry never saw coming; he never predicted Louis to be vulnerable on his own accord. It didn't happen much, and with humility Harry realised it really only happened for him.

Harry definitely wanted to stay around for those moments. “I'm yours,” Harry confirmed.

Then Louis slammed his hips in hard, not roughly but definitely in a forceful way, a way that pushed Harry forward onto his stomach. Louis chased him, pushing Harry so he was flat against the bed and Louis was on top of him, thrusting into him so fast and heavy that Harry could feel Louis' balls slapping his skin, punctuating the quiet morning. Harry wailed in welcome surprise at Louis' sudden movement, a loud cry choked out onto the sheets, unable to contain the immeasurable pleasure Louis was filling him with, pushing out of every fibre of Harry's body.

When Harry spoke again, it wasn't quiet and it wasn't steady and it probably sounded ridiculous, but he didn't care.

“You _know_ I'm yours! I'll always be yours!”

A whine cracked out of Louis' throat, sounding half-muffled like his lips were pressed together. Harry felt Louis sit up a bit, the blankets falling back as Louis' hands met Harry's ass and held his cheeks apart. The next time Louis' cock slid into Harry it went far deeper, making Harry's hole feel even more deliciously stretched-out.

Louis was completely inside him, Harry could feel it – but he was being _told_ , too, by the way Louis was crying out. “'Arry, your ass looks so good,” he was moaning.

Louis' voice was blown-out low against Harry's shrill whimpers, a symphony to Harry's ears, better than any choral hymn he'd heard in church before. “So – fucking – _deep_ inside you, I can't believe how good you feel. How good you _look!_ ” Louis continued as he fucked Harry hard into the bed, pushing Harry and his cock against the sheets, again and again.

“Wait,” Harry gasped. Louis paused immediately, hands easing so while they were still on him, they weren't spreading him apart. Harry was momentarily stunned into silence, amazed at how Louis could be so completely lost in a moment but cease his movement the very _second_ Harry said so. Harry felt incredibly safe.

“Mon petit?” Louis asked breathlessly.

“Can we lie back on the side?” Harry asked timidly, turning his chin over his shoulder to look up at Louis. “It's just – being pushed against the bed...”

“Of course,” Louis said quickly, pulling his cock out and lying back down beside Harry. “You don't like it?”

“I do,” Harry assured him, rolling back over on his side too and shuffling back in close to Louis. “I like it a lot, but I don't want to come from it.”

Louis found Harry's hole again and pushed himself in. Harry smiled, stupidly happy about how it didn't hurt even a fraction. It did make his thighs twitch and his stomach leap. Harry could feel that his precome had smeared over his belly, probably stickied the sheets in front of him too.

Louis' hand gripped Harry's hip, holding him in place as he slid out then in again. “You want to come from this, hm?” he said in that low, gravelly, authoritative voice that made Harry feel drunk. “You'll come just from my cock?”

“I think I might!” Harry squeaked.

\-----

Louis was torn between giving it to Harry sweet and slow... and just _destroying_ him. He settled for both, holding a hand over Harry's chest to pull him in tighter, and then rocking his hips slow and very close while Harry panted and arched his back. Then Louis would switch to fucking into Harry so hard and fast that the bedsheets burned hot against his skin and Harry yelped, clumsily pushing his own sweaty hair back and then happily grabbing for Louis' face behind him, to bring him up and over into a messy kiss.

How Louis had gotten so lucky was utterly unfathomable to him. He'd turned a few 'straight' men gay in his time, true, but this was something else. He couldn't take credit for turning a goofy teenage brat in loose clothing into a creature who bought his boyfriend roses and jumped into bed with his ass already prepped. That was entirely Harry. Louis had developed a lot of faith in the boy early on, but he was only now beginning to realise the ridiculous amount of unbridled potential Harry had within him.

Harry was letting out slow whines like his mouth was betraying him, completely giving him away. “You're so good,” Louis told him. “You sound so beautiful.”

The sounds Harry was making got increasingly lower and longer, until he was almost grunting. Then, fast like someone had flicked a switch they became rapid and much, much higher-pitched, something urgent trying to punch its way out of him. Harry scrambled to grab Louis' hands and yanked them up to press his mouth against them, frantically whining a muffled, “ _Louis!_ ” and then he only got out the first syllable, “ _Lou-_ ” before he cut himself off with a huge gasp. Harry's whole body shook as he came without anything touching his cock. Louis leant up to see white come shooting fast out onto the sheets in front of Harry. His rim clenched tight over Louis' cock and Louis shouted at the feeling, increased pressure and a flickering tightness, feeling Harry come around him.

Louis was torn between chasing his own orgasm to come with Harry, or prolonging it, never wanting the morning to end. Harry's ass was still tight and strong in post-orgasmic shock, and Louis quickly decided he just wanted to be with Harry in every last way. He fucked Harry through his orgasm, gripping their hands together tight over Harry's chest. Louis thrust in one final time and stayed buried deep inside Harry as he came, shouting as he felt it strongly pulse out of him like he hadn't come in a week.

Louis kept his arms tight around Harry, wanting to stay as close as he possibly could. He kissed his boy's cheeks over and over, whispering, “ _Merci, merci, merci._ ”

Harry seemed sleepy and sated, floppy limbs and happy sighs, shutting his eyes and shuffling his head of sweaty curls down into the pillow. It absolutely killed Louis to say, “Non, mon petit, we've got to get up. We've got to go to the airport.”

“Did you mean what you said about booking a later flight?” Harry asked plaintively, really sounding far too sweet for a boy with a cock still in his ass.

“You're supposed to be filming today,” Louis gently reminded him. “Straight from the big city right back to a tiny town with farms. You can _meuh_ at the cows in French?”

Harry didn't moo. He quietly _booed_.

Harry was adorable and Louis was totally gone for him.Louis was also fairly sure that Harry knew those two facts very well.

“Mon petit-ami,” Louis said seriously, pressing a kiss to Harry's salt-sweaty neck. “If you really want, I'll book us a whole other night here. I can make it happen, because if that's what you really want, that's what I want too. But there will be consequences. Big consequences.”

Harry sighed in resignation. “Jeremy will kill you. Me too. It's okay. We'll go back today.”

Louis sighed too, but with the breath he was letting out, he let go of something else; the old Louis Tomlinson, the workaholic. Weighing it all up in his mind, he loosened his arms and pulled his hips back.

Harry's body froze as Louis took his cock out, and he gave a hesitant, “ _Ahh!_ ” He turned his head up to face Louis, apology clear on his face. Louis was confused, until Harry's eyes flicked down.

Louis followed to where Harry was indicating, seeing his come slowly spill out of Harry's hole. Louis groaned a desperate, “ _Please,_ ” and scrambled down the bed.

He slowly ran a wide tongue over Harry's ass, licking it up. His come tasted sweet from the lube. Louis finished with a kiss right on Harry's rim. Harry, apparently still sensitive, shivered and gave a happy little giggle.

Louis savoured it for a brief moment, smiling to himself as he swallowed. One day, he'd like to grab Harry after doing that, push his tongue in between Harry's lips so Harry could taste it too – but for now, Harry needed it to be sweet. Louis didn't mind that at all.

He was honestly surprised at how the sweet way was just as wonderful.

\-----

Harry made to get up off the bed, but Louis grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “'Arry, listen.” “Listening,” Harry replied. He felt so wonderfully happy that if it had been _'Arry, do a backflip,_ or _'Arry, hand over your wallet,_ he probably still would have done it.“It would be really fucking stupid to not go back to work today,” Louis started. “Totally reckless. There will be hell to pay.”

“Okay, I know!” Harry said back, just a little irritated that Louis thought he _didn't_ know. “It was a dumb idea, sorry.”

“For almost fifteeen years, I've put work first,” Louis said. “Before _anything._ Relationships, family, I even worked when I was too sick to work. Career first, always.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Harry grudgingly agreed. “It's important.”

“ _Non,_ ” Louis insisted. “ _You're_ important. And if you loved your job I'd drag you out of bed and kick you out the door on time every morning.”

“And if I don't?” Harry asked, scared to admit it. “If I don't love it and I don't like doing it and I'm kind of scared of it?”

“Then I'll be incredibly stupid and careless and – with full understanding that we'll both be in hot water and probably have to do a fucking media parade and work right through the night to catch up enough footage for your next episode, and maybe never be allowed to fly out anywhere just the two of us again,” Louis carefully dictated. “I'll book another night here.”

“I don't think Jeremy would let us go anywhere together again anyway,” Harry guessed. “Isn't this supposed to be, like... me stuck in a hotel room while you're running around doing important work, and I come back bored and ready to follow any orders? Back on the straight and narrow?”

“Something like that,” Louis agreed.It wasn't a _completely_ easy choice for Harry. “What do you think?”

“Don't let me sway you,” Louis shrugged. “But I've worked almost every day since I was nineteen! I'm _tired._ I don't want to be a slave to my job any more. I want to have a bubble bath with you and then take you to the museum and see much, much more of it, and I want to eat real New York pizza and go try the Ben & Jerry's flavours they only have in the ice cream parlour. We could even see that secret subway stop I was telling you about. And then we can come back here and build a truly epic blanket fort and I'll fuck you inside it, and then...” Louis trailed off, slowly coming back to reality. “And _then,_ we'll absolutely have to wake up at four in the morning, or maybe even earlier, and get a flight back to Arkansas. And I won't be allowed to touch you for the rest of the day. I'll have to act like I'm sick of your company after three days with only you, and I'll probably have to kiss Eleanor in front of everyone so it looks like I missed her.”

“Life's a trade,” Harry said diplomatically. He didn't love the thought of Louis kissing someone else, but it was just pretending, and Eleanor herself was pretending too.

“So?”

“So,” Harry stretched the sound out as he climbed off the bed. “So think of a good excuse while I run that bubble bath.”

 


	28. Chapter 28

Louis sat in front of Harry in the large spa bath, rubbing his ankle over Harry's leg under the water. He calmly picked up his phone. Harry wondered if he'd been totally blind because Louis certainly _looked_ wealthy in that moment: phone held totally carefree as if there wasn't two feet of water just below it, bubbles lapping at his chest.

Harry wouldn't mind if his own phone fell into deep water and stopped working. Perhaps the only American teenager whose iPhone wasn't an extension of their arm, Harry's sat out of action buried deep in his luggage most days, or it was left untouched as he watched calls ring out. He didn't reply to texts of, _Hey Poppet. Jeremy told us you're in NYC with a few days off. Wish you'd told us, we would have flown up to visit you!_ and _Duuuude. Radio silence is freaking out the parents. CALL MOM!_

He didn't know what to say. He'd opened up blank text messages more times than he could count, but all he could type out was _Hi_ or _Sorry,_ which he'd just stare at for a moment before sighing and locking his screen again.

The world Harry was now living in felt completely different to the one he had come from. Though he had so quickly found he didn't agree with a lot of what his parents believed, he still loved them.

His mother knew him. She would hear it in his voice if he lied about enjoying the show. Harry also knew that despite Louis having stayed at his parents' house, despite all appearances as a man in a happy relationship with a woman, repenting for his gay sins, Harry's parents still didn't agree with Louis being around him. Like Gemma had said, there were 'good Christian people' on the crew, he should be spending time with them.

The first day Harry had met Louis, in that office in Texas where Louis measured him, Harry had found out Louis was gay. He had _boyfriends, not girlfriends,_ he'd said.

Only briefly after they'd left, Harry's parents got a call saying he was going to New York City with Louis in the morning. Just him and Louis, alone, two whole nights.

Harry didn't tell his parents Louis was gay. He didn't tell Linda or Jeremy. He wasn't hesitant to go to New York City - not even secretly. He knew he _should_ tell them... but he knew they wouldn't let him go away with Louis if they knew, and Harry _wanted_ to spend time alone with this gay man. He wanted to go to New York City for more of that pretty French accent and those silver eyes that made him so curious... and those fast hands that had given him a boner. So he'd kept his mouth shut. He wanted to get to know the first gay person he'd ever met.

At least consciously met, Harry realised. If his uncle was secretly gay then maybe other people around him were too.

 _Harry_ was secretly gay now. And he'd never kept a big secret from his parents before.

The one thing he had done on his phone was a quiz off his Facebook feed that some old friend had taken. Harry had answered questions while the bath run, jumping back up on the bed and proudly informing Louis that that the Disney couple they were most like was Lady and the Tramp.

Louis had raised an eyebrow.“Because we are... _happy to be out on the town for an evening or snuggled up at home,_ ” Harry read off the screen.“ _Laid-back, sweet, and loyal to each other._ ”Louis' mouth formed a thin smirk. Harry knew that tight-lipped one; Louis was trying to contain a properly enormous smile, nice teeth and crinkled eyes and feelings on show.

“Sounds about right,” Louis agreed, sipping room-service coffee in bed. He then quickly added, “I'm Lady, yes?”

“No!” Harry had easily argued. “Don't be stupid. _I'm_ Lady.”

“ _Pardon?_ ” Louis set his coffee down and folded his arms, waiting for an explanation.“I like, literally come from owners,” Harry had said. “ _You've_ tramped your way all over the earth, free to do your own thing. You've seen it all. You're Tramp.”

“Look at me, 'Arry!” Louis had insisted, even though all he had on was underwear and his hair was sweat-greasy – from _sex_. “I'm stylish! I have nice hair! I'm Lady! You're Tramp, because you used to wear garbage before I came along.”

Harry had opened his mouth to shoot Louis down, but Louis had lunged for his sides, tickling him until he shrieked with laughter.

However, their wrestling was abruptly interrupted by Harry's phone, still clenched safe in his hand. It aggressively buzzed with _Dad_ flashing on the screen. Louis had quickly kissed Harry's forehead and retreated to the bathroom, leaving him to it.

Harry just watched it ring out, heart beating laboriously in his chest.

Louis blew bath bubbles at Harry, breaking him out of his thoughts. “All right, my prime-time television star. It's time to prove your acting chops.” He passed his phone over, water swishing around them.

“Me?” Harry asked. “Na-uh.”

“Ya-huh!” Louis retorted, and insistently pushed the phone into Harry's hand. “We're in this together, and unless you've got a better plan, you're calling Jeremy to tell him I have a blinding migraine.”

“Migraine?” Harry repeated dubiously.

“Doctor says I've got vertigo. And - fever? Rigor? I don't know, consider it improvisation!” Louis said jovially. “Have fun with it.”

Harry looked at Jeremy's contact information open on the screen. Fun? “You don't like lying, do you?” Louis asked gently.“No,” Harry said hesitantly. “But I like being with you. I can do it.” “You sure? You don't _have_ to.”

Harry would much rather say one harmless little lie than race straight off to the airport. “I'm sure,” he said. He pressed the little telephone button and turned on speakerphone.

“Louis?” Jeremy's voice blared out, finishing in an 's' sound. Harry winced. That was not his boyfriend's name.

“It's Harry,” he replied, carefully staying still so Jeremy wouldn't hear bath water sloshing around.

“Harry? Shouldn't you two be on the plane?”

“Louis can't get out bed, he's got a migraine.” Harry's throat felt tight with nervousness.

Just like Harry had done, Jeremy repeated it in doubt. “A migraine?”

Harry thought about it for a second. Improvisation. He had to leave Jeremy no other option but to allow them to stay another night – make him think his hands were tied.

“I think it's related to his ankle, you know, how he hurt it when you sent him to Paris?” Harry quickly accused. “Since he got back he hasn't had a spare minute to see a doctor for painkillers, he's just been pushing through. I think his body can't take it any more. Too much strain. It's been quite the schedule, I don't know whose job it is to be looking after these things... It was an OH&S case when he was in Paris, surely that should have been followed up by someone here?”

Louis gave a impressed nod, like _good one._ Perhaps Harry was better at lying than he'd thought.

“Oh -” Jeremy cut himself off just like Harry did when he was scared to swear. “You need to get on a plane, Harry. Louis can catch up with us when he's well.”

“I don't want to fly alone,” Harry quickly said. That one perhaps wasn't so clever. “Step up, Harry,” Jeremy said irritably. “Be a man. You'll be fine.”

 _Be a man._ Harry was a frickin' man, he'd _done_ a man last night and a man did him this morning and Jeremy had no frickin' idea how capable Harry was of _stepping up._

“I prayed about it,” Harry lied. “But I can't do it. I don't want to go alone. Louis said he'll be fine by tomorrow.”

“ _'Arry,_ ” Louis weakl cut him off, deliberately not quiet enough. “Don't do that to the curtain, the light's too much. Oh - I'm going to be sick.”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” Jeremy muttered.

“I just don't want to go to the airport alone because there's been so much fan attention here,” Harry insisted. “Did any of the social media team show you? I just want to make sure I'm doing things right, and Louis is so used to the media, you know?”

Louis pointed to Harry, waved his hand, and pointed at himself. _You don't like me,_ he was suggesting.

Harry paused, pained. He didn't want to lie like _that_. He wouldn’t.

Against Louis' suggestion, Harry said, “I'm not leaving him when he's so sick. He nearly fainted before. I'll get a doctor to come to the hotel and look at him. It's for the best of the show, you know? I can't play the perfect Modern Missionary when I know we've abandoned someone from our team. You always say we're family. Family sticks together. We'll both come back tomorrow when Louis is well again and then I can get on with my job.”

 “You seriously don't think you can fly alone?” Jeremy's voice was scathing. “How much filming is there to be done at the farm?” Harry asked.“Four, five hours, maybe,” Jeremy grudgingly admitted. “It's just filler scenes.”

“It's just... these things keep happening under your watch, Jeremy,” Harry said in a hate-to-say-I- told-you-so way. “You send Louis to Paris and he hurts himself, you take my interviews away from me and then I get stuck interstate. I think it's really just better if we stick to the itinerary from now on. God's plan and all.”

Jeremy sighed.

“Really.” Harry tried to copy Jeremy's irritable tone, like Jeremy the one causing the inconvenience. “Why did Linda bother planning it out if we're not going to stick to the plan?”

“These things happen, Harry. You've got to adapt.”

“I know, and I'm adapting by staying here one more night. I'd rather do that than adapt to a second-best episode. Louis is the very best at the clothes stuff. Far better than anyone who's filled in for him when he was away. I just want _Modern Missionary_ to be the best it can be.”

Louis gestured impatiently at Harry to wind it up.

“I've got to go,” Harry said, trying to sound authoritative. “Can you get Linda to book us flights for tomorrow? Super, super early,” he said, like he couldn't wait to leave. “I don't want to waste any more time.”

“I understand emergencies happen, Harry, but if Louis gets ill again, we move on without him.”

“Of course,” Harry immediately agreed. “Can't have anyone drag the show behind. See you tomorrow.”

Harry hung up and let out a huge sigh.

“He's angry.” Harry pulled the syllables out slowly, waiting for his guilt to ease.

“He'll be fine.” Louis took the phone back and sat it on the side of the large spa bath. “Come on, turn around so I can wash your hair.”

His back to Louis, Harry smiled as Louis' skilled fingers massaged over his scalp. His guilt did ease. Who cared if they were in trouble? This was so, _so_ worth it.

Failing to sound totally casual, Louis said, “You told him I was the best stylist you've worked with. Was that just to butter him?”

Harry giggled. “Butter him _up,_ you mean. Of course it's true. I feel good in what you put me in. I still feel like me, but... more confident. You're really good at picking outfits.”

Harry could _feel_ Louis' fond little smile boring into the back of his head. As if he knew that was exactly what Harry was thinking, Louis poured some water over the back of his head, rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

“Thank you for washing my hair Although, it's really your fault - you got me so sweaty.”

“You haven't seen anything yet,” Louis threatened. “I'll have you dripping next time. You won't be able to walk. Not even for a glass of water.”

 _Next time._ Harry's stomach did a giddy little flip. “That's what you're for,” he gladly supplied. “Hair-washing, water-fetching, other such boyfriendly duties.”

Harry settled his back against Louis' chest, shutting his eyes and breathing in steam. Louis had poured in something from one of his fancy bottles. It reminded Harry of the rare occasions he'd been to church services that had incense: very sweet, but something rich and fragrant in there too. Definitely a lot nicer than Harry's Old Spice body wash, or the bright pink bath bombs that Gemma would use.

Louis' hands rested on Harry's legs under the water, stroking over his leg hair and sometimes ghosting to his sensitive inner thighs. Harry leant his head right back to rest on Louis' shoulder.

He hesitated over saying the word, but anything else sounded babyish. He had to decisively make his mouth go in the right shape, but he managed it. “Sex is good. Sex is _so_ good.” It felt nice and grown-up to say it, even though it was sort of awkward – he didn't know if he was pulling it off.

Louis' hands moved in front of Harry's stomach, gently splashing warm water up to his chest. “It's not always good.”

Harry gave an apologetic grimace. “I'll get better,” he promised.

“No, you idiot!” Louis splashed Harry properly this time, getting a bit of bath water in his mouth. While Harry spat it out, Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, hugging him. “I mean, it's not always as good as it was with you. That was very special, _mon petit._ ”

Harry turned his head in, hiding his huge smile against Louis' neck. He left a kiss there. “Really?”

It seemed like it was Louis' turn to struggle to say something. “Yes, really,” he said bashfully, leaning his head down to rest his cheek on Harry's head. “I can't say it's ever been like that before.”

They stayed like that for a while, cuddled in close as the water went from steaming hot to lukewarm. Harry felt like he'd been given a love potion – maybe the bath was a big brew of it. All he wanted to do was lie back against Louis's bare skin. “I'm sleepy.”

“No way, Curly!” Louis warned. “You, who wants to do all sorts of things that keep me up late every night, you who woke me up so very early this morning – you're not wasting this day by sleeping. We've got New York to take over.”

It was a vain hope, wanting to take over New York. A group of teenagers started _screaming_ at them the second they stepped out of the hotel – Louis gave Harry a push to keep going and swiftly turned himself straight back into the hotel.

He got it; Louis was 'sick', he couldn't be seen. Harry didn't know how all these people had found them at the Plaza though, and he didn't even know if _Jeremy_ knew they were staying at the Plaza and now he would know and Louis had booked one room with only one king bed and maybe bellboys who lit candles for a $5 tip would love to sell a story about Harry Styles for just a bit more money than that...

But these people were so nice. They were genuine fans of the show and Harry didn't mind posing for photos – photo after photo after photo. In New York, a strange place with paparazzi and grown men who leered at Harry in nightclubs and bellboys who made crude jokes about prom night, it was nice to hear kind, good people say, “God bless,” like they really meant it.

A black car with tinted windows pulled up and the valet came to Harry, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Harry's body sort of melted at the man's touch - goodness, how had he taken _so long_ to realise he really was gay? He was steered firmly to the car and when the door opened, Louis' accent greeted him; “Get in, quick.”

Harry felt like he was catching his breath after the flurry of people and iPhones and markers, but Louis' hand holding his in the backseat definitely helped calm him down.

“Are people supposed to know which hotel we're at?” Harry asked.

“I don't know,” Louis replied, protectively stroking his thumb over Harry's hand. “Who would have told them? At least there was no paparazzi.”

 _Yet,_ Harry thought.

Harry had only read the first little plaque about cavemen, fascinated, when he was startled by a piercing shriek. Two girls were jumping up and down together, pointing at him and saying his name. That was worse than being swarmed. They acted like he couldn't even see them.

Harry gave them a small wave, and they shrieked even louder at each other but still didn't approach him.

He turned to Louis -

Louis was gone.

Harry's phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Please, please, please enjoy the museum, mon petit. You don't want to spend this whole trip inside the hotel. Buy some books to read, okay? I'll be waiting back in the room for you x_

So Harry would be doing the museum alone. That really sucked a lot... But Louis had signed off with a kiss. That was cute.

Then his phone started ringing – but it wasn't Louis, it was Harry's mother. He couldn't very well answer and say, _Hello, I'm at the museum, trying to learn about all the things you've forbidden me from learning_ \- and anyway, museums were like libraries, right, you shouldn't be loud, so Harry didn't really have a choice, did he? He let it ring out and then turned his phone off.

He would much rather be there with Louis, but there was a nice freedom in getting to go through the museum alone, at his own pace.

Except it wasn't Harry's pace, it was the Modern Missionary's pace, as more and more people recognised him. Some just smiled or waved, some came to say hello, some asked for photos – some even didn't ask and just took photos of him from across the big room.

Harry realised he better not be seen learning about cavemen, because they weren't in the bible. Maybe ancient Egypt was dark magic and he shouldn't do that too. He hesitated for too long in the same place, trying to figure out what section he could go look at, and a whole family came up for another round of photos.

Because he wasn't supposed to be seen wearing Louis' Stone Roses top, he had shoved on a sweater over it. He felt too hot and probably looked strange and flushed in the photos. Harry shot a desperate glance to a security guard but the man's expression didn't change. Maybe he didn't care, or maybe he thought Harry was just with friends.

Harry sighed in surrender and took a shortcut to a gift shop, buying a whole stack of books. It wasn't the same as getting to see displays right in front of his eyes, but if it was the best he'd get, that was okay. He liked reading.

Especially curled up on a couch with Louis. That's where he wanted to be now. With Louis.

\-----

Louis had taken refuge at Prada. He was enjoying champagne and salad Niçoise with a few old colleagues as he lazily perused a good forty or fifty sweaters hung out in front of him. There was every colour imaginable: the pale blue like Harry's sweater that Louis had accidentally destroyed, a green that would match Harry's eyes, rich dark blacks and browns and maroons, a cream that Harry would look angelic in. Louis could picture him in every last one.

Louis hadn't specifically said who he was shopping for, but when someone had reminded him about, “ _That little Snow White on your arm at the Fendi thing in Vegas?_ ” he didn't deny it.

He then got totally distracted by dress prototypes for the upcoming season – staff had acted like they were being terribly naughty in showing him, but Louis could tell that they were actually seeking his approval on the designs. He tried to stay relatively neutral, but honestly he was fond of Prada and Miuccia never missed the mark. These dresses were gorgeous.

He'd sent Harry another text message when he'd arrived: _Getting some work done. Let me know when you're headed back to the hotel?_ and Harry hadn't replied yet, so Louis had gotten quite comfortable until his phone rang. He didn't recognise the number.

“ _Allo?_ ” he answered.

“Louis?” an uncertain voice came out.

“Who is calling?”

“It's Robin.”

Louis frowned down at the table in front of him. Robin?

“Robin Styles.”

Louis felt like he'd been plunged in ice, the champagne in his stomach suddenly sickening. There were very few reasons Harry's father would have to call him.

“How can I help you?” Louis stood up as he spoke, one of the staff members immediately rising to user him into a private fitting room. He mouthed _Merci,_ and shut the door behind him.

“This is Louis Tomlinson?” Robin confirmed.

Trying to instantly think of an excuse for anything and everything Robin might throw at him, Louis sat himself down on a chaise. He looked around him, all expensive and sleek and beautiful. Louis had influence here – minor celebrity, even. He had power. He was powerful. He desperately held on to that thought as he spoke. “Yes. I must say I'm surprised to hear from you.”

“I know we didn't really see eye to eye when you were staying with our family,” Robin started awkwardly.

Louis noted it wasn't exactly an apology, but the man sounded... somehow weakened. Like he didn't have an immediate upper ground. That was incredibly reassuring.

“I'm sure you can appreciate that the decision to contact you wasn't an easy one to make. But I'm calling about Harry.” Robin let the words hang as if they had some meaning.

Louis simply waited. He was admittedly not sure what this was about – surely if Robin knew anything there would have been some immediate accusation. Unbridled anger, even. Louis didn't want to comment until he knew exactly what they were discussing.

Robin broke the silence. “I just want to know how he's doing. I spoke with Jeremy Wash the other day and Jeremy assured me Harry would call, but, um. We haven't been able to catch each other.”

Louis nodded to himself. He could admit he was probably personally responsible for that, putting Harry on planes and in limousines and hand-feeding him in cheese and not leaving him with much time alone. Still, surely the boy who had all but demanded to put his mouth on various parts of Louis could easily ask for some time to make a phone call.

Louis could easily ask for some time to make a phone call.

“He seems close with you,” Robin hesitantly stated. “You're the first person he travelled with, and I've seen photographs of you two together. You're friends.”

 _Much to your chagrin, yes,_ Louis didn't say. He went with: “Harry is friendly to everyone on the production team.”

“Exactly, he's a friendly boy, and suddenly he's so quiet. There must be something going on, but I'm not getting any answers from Jeremy or his assistant.” Apparently it wasn't worth Robin's time to learn names of female staff members. He seemed to be fighting some urgency in his tone though, a concentrated effort to sound calm. “I thought you might know something they don't.”

“If it's about the show, they know more than I do,” Louis said in dismissal. “If it's about Harry specifically, you can speak to him directly.”

“That's the problem, Louis,” Robin interrupted. Then he added, “Mr Tomlinson.” _Mr Tomlinson._ He sounded like he was trying to be polite.

“Let me be honest with you. Harry _never_ calls,” Robin said, suddenly allowing some helplessness to slip through. “I've never been so far from him.”

Once more, Louis waited – Robin seemed to need to fill silence, so Louis would let him do just that.

“I travel for work,” he indeed went on to explain. “At least then I always knew he was at home with his mother. Now, he's out in the world without so much as – well... we don't hear from him daily like we thought we would. I thought maybe it's an independence thing, and I get that; he's got this cool new life and doesn't want to be held back by his parents. But then his sister – you met Gemma – she says he doesn't talk to her any more often than he does with us.”

 _You met Gemma._ An incredibly mild way to word Robin walking in on Gemma forcefully kissing Louis. The man's specific concern seemed genuine.

“I thought he'd be homesick,” Robin said. “First time away, and all. But then we hear that he's got a couple of days off and instead of even telling us, he's jet-setted off to New York.”

“That's my doing,” Louis kept any emotion out of his voice, even though Robin had allowed it in his own. “I had work to do here. Harry had time off, and I thought he could use a proper break away from the show for a day or two.”

“He does have _someone_ keeping an eye out for him, though?” Robin asked.

“Yes,” Louis assured him.

“Not just you?”

Louis made a face at that, carefully silent. Robin was _trying_ to be polite, but he didn't consider Louis as _'someone'._ Old habits and all.

He wondered if he should mention Eleanor. He was at a crossroads: if Eleanor was truly his partner, if he was attracted to women like that, then perhaps he had willingly kissed Gemma inside the Styles family home. Not a desirable theory to run with. But if he _didn't_ encourage Robin to think he was into women, he was gay, gay, gay - far less trusted around Harry.

Jeremy had promised he would orchestrate everything Eleanor, though - _You won't say anything about the girl then. No confirmation, no denying._ That had been his stipulation.

Louis borrowed Jeremy's other line: “The whole Modern Missionary crew is like a family.” “Do you think he'd tell _you_ though _,_ if something was wrong?” Robin pushed.

“It's hard to imagine anything could be wrong,” Louis replied in a steely tone, gliding past Robin's question. “He's a very happy boy. The show is having incredible success. You needn't worry.”

“But he doesn't call!” Robin said in panic.

“We're all incredibly busy.” Louis truly had the upper hand here; Harry told him everything sooner or later. “You've raised Harry well, and he pulls his weight. Which unfortunately means he's either busy, or sleeping off the exhaustion.”

There were some other extracurricular activities that Louis didn't mention.

“Mr Tomlinson, there's no point tiptoeing around the fact that you and I both know I'd prefer my son keeping different company. But it's clear he has found a companion in you. And it's like he's a stranger to me. There has to be something else going on for him to be so distant. I just need to know he's okay. Please.”

“I'll get him to call you,” Louis promised. “In fact, he can probably Skype in a few hours?” “That would be good. Face-to-face.”

“I'm currently working but I'll be returning to the hotel soon. I'll go by his room and tell him that you'd like to hear from him.”

\-----

Harry got back to the hotel with a heavy armful of books, but Louis wasn't there. He turned on his phone: two missed calls from his father and a message from Louis saying he was out.

Harry called Louis, who answered, “'Arry!” in utter delight.“I'm back at the hotel. I only saw your message now, sorry.”“It's fine! I'm at Prada.” So that's why he sounded so happy. “Do you want to come here?” “To the shop?”

“Not just a shop!” Louis hinted gleefully. “I'm trying to replace your dearly departed sweater, but every colour is too beautiful. Will you come help me pick?”

 _Help Louis pick clothes,_ Harry mused. That was well and truly Louis' world, surely Louis' people were there. And he wanted Harry there, too.

“You won't be embarrassed by me?” Harry queried. “What happens when I call it ' _blue_ ' instead of ' _Wisconsin sky at 2pm on a Tuesday_ '?”

“Shut up, you shit. _Wisconsin sky,_ please,” Louis dismissed. “It's robin's egg. Or periwinkle. Or powder blue.”

“Periwinkle,” Harry scoffed. “Got it.”“You're with me,” Louis said confidently. “You can call it whatever the hell you like.”

“Okay. I'll come,” Harry agreed. “But the only nice shirt I have here is... you know. Too special to wear to other things.”

“You can wear Stone Roses if you promise you don't tell anyone it's mine,” Louis dictated. “Seriously. Not a soul.”

Louis had permitted it, but Harry still felt hideously underdressed in jeans and Louis' old band t- shirt. He was lead down to a large room in which Louis was waiting, a bowl of salad in his hand as he chatted animatedly in French to a few people. Harry would love to know what they were saying. He resolved to properly learn the language.

Louis put his food down immediately when he saw Harry, leaping up to kiss both of his cheeks. “Hi,” he said fondly. “Sorry I had to leave you at the museum.”“I don't fit in here,” Harry whispered in embarrassment.

Louis winked. “Told you you're Tramp.” He spun Harry around by the shoulders, to where a whole lot of Prada sweaters were hung up – every colour of the rainbow, some with v-necks and some round, some displayed with a shirt underneath or a scarf around the hanger.

Hands still on Harry's shoulders, Louis quietly said to him, “Your father called me.” “Jeepers!” Harry made to turn around, but Louis kept him fixed in place. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. He's worried about you though. He says you don't call.” Louis moved to stand beside Harry with an arm around him. “You get one sweater because I love you.”

In a room with other people, Louis had said it clear as a bell. Swelling with pride, Harry quickly looked around. The people – staff, Harry assumed – were just talking to each other. It was probably for the best, that they didn't hear.

Louis nudged Harry with his hip, getting him to turn back to the clothes. “You can choose a second if you promise to call your parents today, and a third if you Skype them.”

“You don't call your parents,” Harry retorted.

“Ooh,” Louis exhaled, pretending to be hurt. He brushed past it, though; “Do we have a deal?”

Harry thought about it. “I only want one special sweater, to wear when we're alone,” he decided, eyes trailing over each colour – how could be ever chose? “I'm sacrificing the other two.”

“What if I call my parents too?” Louis wheedled. “Tomorrow, as soon as it's a decent hour in France? Will you speak to your father today, please?”

He didn't want to disappoint Louis. “Okay,” Harry reluctantly agreed. “At least if I'm the only one making a call today, we'll have more time do our own stuff today.”

“Whatever _stuff_ you want,” Louis promised with another nudge. “Go on, touch the wool, they're so soft. These designs aren't even out yet.”

Up-close, Harry examined the sweaters in front of him. He honestly couldn't tell the difference to the one Louis had gifted to him – but when Harry turned around, Louis gave him this giddy look of encouragement like Harry was touching a giant gold nugget.

\-----

Harry had almost gone for a sweater in the same pale blue Louis had originally bought him, but then he mumbled something about, “No, that's the old me,” and settled for a dusty thistle colour.

Louis would have loved to say _'fuck it'_ and buy him a sweater in every last colour available, but he thought having multiples might ruin it – it was special somehow, that _Prada sweater time_ was a thing that they had, that they could go away to film for the show or get sent away to Paris or have to do stupid media parades, but at the end of the day they'd always come back to Harry in his sweater and Louis in Harry's arms. It might not be the same in an entire rainbow.

Harry leapt into Louis' arms the second they got in the door of their hotel room and kissed him. The sharp corner of his Prada bag was dangling from his fist and hitting Louis between the shoulder blades, and Louis couldn't have cared less.

“You can't seduce me just to get out of that phone call,” Louis protested incredibly halfheartedly as he stumbled backwards.

“The deal is still on,” Harry quickly promised, his hand dropping the bag on the floor and coming up to tangle in Louis' hair. “Just need to do this first.”

Louis let himself fall onto the big round loveseat, dropping Harry right beside him.

“Do you know how _hot_ that was?” Harry urged him between kisses, groping aimlessly at Louis' clothes and hair and kissing him like he was the last glass of water in the desert. “Those people are _obsessed_ with you! You know when they showed you the sketch of that jacket?”

“Yes?” Louis patiently replied, trying to not groan too obscenely at the way Harry's hands were grabbing every part of him.

“You sort of... wrinkled up your nose and one eye shut a bit, just for a split second, and – _do you know what she did?_ ” Harry demanded, planting a hand on Louis' crotch and squeezing his cock. Louis had gotten hard enough that Harry's brief grip there made him gasp at the heightened sensitivity, pushing his hips into it.

“Did you see what she did?” Harry repeated, slowly dragging his hand along Louis' length. Louis was weak and breathless under his touch. “I don't know?” he said helplessly.

“She threw it out!” Harry cried in amazement, roughly tugging Louis' fly undone and slipping his hand into Louis' pants, pressing his fingertips at the head of Louis' cock like he was coaxing out precome to stain his underwear. “You do the world's tiniest little flinch and she _throws her whole sketch out!_ You're a king in there!”

“Oh, it's not like that,” Louis dismissed him shakily, melting back into the loveseat under Harry's assertive touch. “She just – values my opinion. She'll redraw it, minor adjustments, that's all.”

“It's not just that,” Harry whispered lowly. “When you were just like, _Are you 'ungry, 'Arry,_ three people came over straight away like, _What would you like to eat?_ Three people! You should have _seen_ it!”

Louis laughed. “I did see it, I was there. It's just good service.”

“They show everyone unreleased clothes?” Harry asked, knowing full well the answer. “Offer up a private chef to any old tramp in a ratty Stone Roses t-shirt?”

“So you are Tramp!” Louis said in victory, thumbing the hem of the t-shirt Harry was still wearing. “Told you I'm Lady.”

“You can be whoever you want.” Harry pulled the t-shirt out of Louis' hands and off his body completely, immediately leaning down to undo Louis' own shirt buttons. “It was so hot!” He frantically clawed at Louis' chest, fingertips rolling over his nipples.

Louis shuddered out a breath, rocking his hips up, already missing Harry's hand there. “Jesus, Harry. I'll bring you everywhere I go for work if it gets you like this.”

Harry eased out of his urgency to kiss Louis slowly. After a moment he pulled away to ask, “That's not bad, is it?”

Louis combed Harry's curls back with his fingers. “Better to be drunk off my power than your own, hm?” Harry still looked a little unsure though, so Louis added, “Mon petit, nothing about you is bad. Good falls from your fingertips.”

Fast to hide his reaction, Harry buried his face in Louis' neck, just whining at the skin a moment before kissing back up until he reached Louis' lips.

Although they weren't being quiet, the noise of Louis' phone broke through the bubble they were in. Harry hesitated, so Louis said, “Fuck it.”

Quiet as a mouse, Harry whispered, “Fuck _me._ ”

His words shot straight through Louis, making his thighs jerk up – but no sooner had Louis' phone stopped ringing did it start again. Louis pretended to give a quiet sob, letting his head fall back to the pillow as he pulled the phone from his pocket. “It might be your father again.”

Harry made a face. Louis kissed Harry's nose and then sat up to look at the screen. It was Eleanor. Louis sighed and answered.“Have you got a minute to talk?” she immediately asked.“Right now?”

“That would be best.”

Louis shot a look of apology at Harry, who matched Louis' sigh but waved his hand in permission. He simply rotated himself on the loveseat, letting his head rest on Louis' lap.

“How are you?” Louis asked Eleanor.“I'm fine. I'm more interested in how you are.”

Louis peered down at Harry, laying there topless with shoulders moving as he caught his breath. His chocolate brown hair complemented his skin perfectly, tanned arms fading onto a milky-white back, flecked with a few pink blemishes. Harry looked so cute all curled up, and his head slotted against Louis' thighs like he truly belonged there. Louis wouldn't trade it for the world.

“I'm really good,” he said honestly. “It's been great here. Almost forgot I have a job. Of course, if you're with Jeremy right now, then I'm terrible, too ill to fly, so on.”

Harry pouted as he traced his thumb along the band of Louis' underwear, apparently put-out by the interruption. Louis gave his back a little pat of apology and Harry responded by turning his head a bit, nuzzling at Louis' still-clothed thighs - Louis almost hung up the phone right then and there, but Eleanor replied, bringing him back to the conversation.

“I'm not with Jeremy. But I'm in this tiny town and I'm bored out of my brains so I've been searching Twitter – really slowly, mind you, the wifi here is terrible.”

“Okay,” Louis said slowly, recalling the roundabout way Eleanor talked. He'd like get back to what he'd been doing quite quickly, so he encouraged her with a pointed, “And?”

“You've stayed invisible today.”“Okay.”“Harry hasn't.”“Ah.” Louis mentally went back through their day. “Meaning...?”

“We've got photos of him arriving at Prada showrooms or something?” Eleanor said. “Surely none of the Modern Missionary staff would know he was going there, let alone want him photographed there. So it was Prada staff that tipped paparazzi off, or someone from the hotel is taking advantage of Harry staying there.”

“It wouldn't be Prada staff,” Louis told her. “Anyway, I arrived there a bit before Harry did, and there were no photos of me?”

 “That's what I'm saying - nothing of you yet, and I don't think there will be. Louis Tomlinson visits Prada isn't very interesting. Potentially _gay_ Modern Missionary Harry Styles visits Prada is much more suspicious.”

Louis winced, hoping the phone wasn't so loud that Harry could hear Eleanor. “That's a big leap to make, from Prada to...” He looked down at Harry, his brown curls spilling over Louis' thighs. “You know. And I told you, I'm not discussing that.” He twirled one of Harry's ringlets around his finger.

“Other people _are_ discussing it. I mean – not a lot, I don't think, and it seems to be dying down – but that's what these people are like, Louis, they see a former high school football player spend a few days in LA, then at a Fendi event, then he visits Prada... and it seems like that's all there is to turn gay.”

“Oh, come on,” Louis said scornfully. “That's silly gossip. What does it matter what some idiots think?”

“I'm just keeping you in the loop,” Eleanor said calmly. “No one's connecting the dots to you yet- ”

“Implying that there's dots between us in the first place,” Louis quickly said.

“Right, right, _first rule of Fight Club_. It's just a little mindless chatter now, you have to really look for it, but... if there's some suspicion Harry is gay, surely you – the one prominent gay figure in his life - are going to get blamed.”

“Ex-gay,” Louis said in a quiet voice, willing Eleanor to lower hers too. “Thanks to you, my darling girlfriend. Jesus, Elle, his father called me today, do you think he's seen it?”

Harry looked up at that, scared-wide green eyes blinking at Louis. Louis ran his fingertips over Harry's scalp, trying to soothe him.

“Beats me,” Eleanor replied. “Don't suppose he'd know where to look, but his daughter might. There's still plenty of the same old stuff – _wonderful example of a Christian, inspiration,_ even like, _I'm going to marry you Harry let me have your babies,_ and _curls get the girls_ -”

Despite himself, Louis snorted in amusement.

“But there's just a quiet little buzz that maybe our Modern Missionary is more _modern_ than he appears.”

“So what am I supposed to tell him?” Louis dropped his voice to a hissing whisper, although Harry was surely still listening. “ _Stop acting gay?_ It was Prada, not exactly a Pride parade.”

“Don't shoot the messenger,” Eleanor reproached. “I just thought I'd fill you in, in case you hadn't taken a second glance at the internet whilst on your little couple's retreat.”

“It's not a ' _couple's_ -”Eleanor interrupted with a smart-assed, “I'll give you fifty dollars if Harry's out of arm's reach right now.”Harry softly giggled – so he could hear her. At least she'd given him something to smile about. “Consider it an I.O.U. So what do we do?” Louis asked.

“' _We'_?” Eleanor repeated. Louis could almost hear the raised eyebrows. “Can you keep an eye on it?” Louis asked.

“What do you think I've been doing?” Eleanor said. “Not as a favour for you, I'm just bored, stuck in Arkansas with nothing to do. There's only so many free makeovers I can get from hair and makeup.”

“You're getting paid to do nothing,” Louis reminded her. “There's worse jobs out there.”

“Yeah, well. You better have some smoke bombs ready to distract when this comes back to you. Or you'll be in a far worse job too.”

“Right.”

“Enjoy the rest of New York,” Eleanor said in farewell. “Take the rear exit next time you go out, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Louis hung up the phone and put it aside, feeling a little ill. Harry's nose was inches away from Louis' cock, but the conversation had been a bit of a mood-killer.

“How much did you hear of that?” Louis asked gently.

Harry rolled over slightly, so he was facing directly up at Louis. “Most of it,” he said softly.

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be. I'm used to it.”

Louis peered down at Harry. “What?”

“People saying I'm gay.”

“Oh?” Louis asked curiously. That was new – he thought Harry had just been the all-star football player, posterboy for his church.

“I have an older sister,” Harry supplied, a sad weight to his voice. “When I learnt to walk and talk, she saw someone to play Barbies with. And she'd comb my hair and put clips in it. Even put nail polish on me sometimes.”

Louis smiled. “Bet you looked pretty. I had to learn how to paint nails for my younger sisters. I hated the smell.”

“I loved it.” Harry's eyes shut and he breathed in as if he could smell the polish fumes now. “My mum used to take it off our hands afterwards, because we weren't allowed it at daycare or school. One time she forgot. My dad came home, and-” He cut himself off suddenly, voice sounding thick. After a steadying breath, he went on. “And he saw my sister's nails. He didn't often get to see them painted. Even though she'd done a pretty messy job, he twirled her around in the air and called her ' _My beautiful little princess'_. And she was so happy that he liked hers that she pulled him over to see mine.”

Harry paused again so Louis hummed a quiet “ _Mm?_ ”, permitting Harry to go on.

“And he yelled at me,” Harry said in a hollow voice. “Not even at my sister, and she was the one who did it to me! He told her to leave the room and he yelled at me for being a sissy and not liking normal things that boys should like. And he got some paint cleaner to take it off – not nail polish stuff, proper paint cleaner from his shed.”

Harry's eyes looked wet around the lashes and Louis felt choked up too, desperately wanting to protect this small child in the past.

“He was so rough with it. It _stung,_ it hurt, and he said it was my own fault. I was just a child! It was just nail polish! And he was hurting me. The smell stuck to my hands for days. When I went to bed I couldn't hold my teddy bears because it hurt my eyes if my hands were too close to them.”

Louis got one arm underneath Harry and pulled him to sit up, holding him close against his chest. He couldn't find words, just pressed his lips in against Harry's hair and held him tight.

“He just kept saying it's my own fault for acting like a fag. But I didn't even do it because I was gay,” Harry protested as if he was still trying to defend himself. “I was just a kid, I was just playing with my sister. She got to keep her nail polish on all weekend. How come she got to be _daddy's little princess_ and I got stinging fingertips and the word 'faggot' hurled at me?”

“I'm so, so sorry,” Louis whispered.

Harry gave a wet sniff. “That wasn't even half of it,” he sadly informed Louis. “My whole life - when he found out I wanted to join a band, he took my iPod. Just completely took it away from me. I never got it back. Said I should focus on sports and church.”

“Jesus,” Louis sighed. This made him feel worse than anything Eleanor had said. He couldn't believe he'd willingly stayed at Harry's father's house. Louis had no idea how he'd control his temper next time he saw Harry's parents.

“I don't even know if I wanted to do football,” Harry admitted. “I mean, I enjoyed it, I guess. But I only did it because I knew it would make him happy. I just learnt to live my life in a way that pleased him, and that kept him off my back. He only allowed me to do _Joseph_ because it was through church. And he didn't come see it. He went to a school football game that was on that night. He'd rather see my classmates play football than see his own son perform.”

“ _Fils de pute,_ ” Louis muttered. “You don't have to call him today.” “I promised you I would.”

“I don't care. The deal is off,” Louis said firmly. “If you wanted to talk to him, you would have by now. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. He fervently added, “I _hate_ him.” Louis then felt Harry tense up in his arms. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “I'm terrible. I'm going to hell.”

“No you're not,” Louis said. He had no authority to speak on God's behalf, but he couldn't fathom someone as wonderful as Harry being condemned to anywhere bad. If there was a heaven, Harry surely had a place there. “You're allowed to be angry at him. You're even allowed to hate him. That doesn't make you a bad person.”

Harry just sighed heavily, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Louis turned to lean back against the loveseat cushions, gently pulling Harry down with him. Harry rested his head on Louis' shoulder and Louis just listened in silence until Harry's breaths matched the pace of his own.

A thought popped into his mind and Louis smiled, reaching for his phone. “I don't suppose you've heard of Mehcad Brooks?”

Harry looked up at Louis. “I don't think so?”

“I met him many times, you know.” Louis brought Google up on his phone, searching through images. Harry tried to peer at the screen but Louis _tsk_ ed him, tilting it out of view while he talked. “He did theatre when he was young and he played sports in high school, just like you. Then he went on to do some modelling and acting.”

“Okay.” Harry eyed Louis, waiting for the punchline. Louis turned his phone around and Harry took it from him, his cautious frown quickly turning wide-eyed in astonishment. “He's wearing nail polish?”

“Oui.” Louis smiled.

“A guy?” Harry asked, seemingly scrolling through photos. “A celebrity, that plays sports?

“ _Oui!_ ” Louis insisted.

“ _Oui_ indeed.” Harry spoke slowly, smirking at the phone in front of him. “He looks even better in Calvin Kleins than you do.”

“Harry!” Louis cried out in amazement. He tried to take his phone back, but Harry rolled right away from Louis, looking through more photos.

“Bet he's younger than you,” Harry teased. “Have you seen this ad? He's got like, an eight-pack! Fills out the Calvin Kleins very nicely.”

“ _Have I seen it -_ I styled that shoot, you shit!” Louis laughed as he threw a leg over Harry to straddle him. He unsuccessfully tried to grab the phone out of Harry's hands.

“You put him in a pair of underwear!” Harry argued between gleeful shrieks, swapping the phone between his hands, too fast for Louis to keep up. “That's not _styling._ ”

Louis leant in close, mouthing firmly at Harry's neck and darting his tongue out to taste Harry's skin. He grinned when Harry moaned, his body going slack against the sofa below him.

Louis then easily snatched the phone out of his hands.

Harry's mouth dropped open in mock-shock. “How dare you use my weakness against me! I trusted you.”

“You can trust... or you can win.” Louis waved the phone in victory.Harry shook his head. “Unbelievable.”“You can still trust me, can't you?” Louis asked as he tossed the phone aside. “Yeah, yeah,” Harry agreed. “Only because you trust me.”

Louis waved a hand midair, pretending to weigh it up. “Well... I'm not inviting Mehcad to our wedding. You might run off with him and leave me at the altar.”

Harry stroked his fingers over Louis' thighs, brow furrowed in thought. He sat himself up a bit, leaving Louis quite feeling like he was sat in Harry's lap – but Harry's hands didn't leave Louis' legs, so Louis stayed there.

“Lou.”

“Yes, mon petit?”

“Petit- _ami,_ ” Harry reminded him.

“That's right.”

“My uncle Paul said that Michael's not just his boyfriend.” Harry's eyes were carefully focused down at Louis' chest. “That, if they could be, they'd be husbands.”

“Okay,” Louis replied immediately, not letting on that he could easily read between the lines – but this was Harry. His boy. He shouldn't play dumb, especially not when he related to the sentiment.

“I think I get that,” he added, touching Harry's cheek so he would look Louis in the eye.

“Understandable for two men who've lived with each other for years and years,” Harry said, his beautiful green eyes flicking up to Louis' face.

Louis pressed his lips together. “I don't need years and years to know that I like someone. I need a few days to know that I _don't_ , and then they're out of my life.”

“I've known you for like, two months.” Harry's voice was hushed, like it was a secret. “Correct. And I've let you hang around.”“Thanks,” Harry retorted only half-sarcastically.

“More importantly, you _have_ stuck around me. And I'm glad you did, because I want you here. I haven't got a history of being a great boyfriend to anyone,” Louis admitted. “But I care about you a lot so I've actually tried, and...” He ran his thumb over Harry's cheek. “I'm glad it's worked.”

“Me too.”

“God, can you imagine if I met you in Paris?” Louis asked, leaning back in horror. “At least I've had some free time here. Back there, I would have had to _make_ free time. Fashion week would have been postponed.”

Harry ducked his head. “Shh.”

Louis picked up Harry's hand and pretended to talk into it like a phone. “ _'Allo?_ Yes, you'll have to change your flights, sorry, we've moved Chanel back because there's a boy I need to take on a date this week.”

Harry just smiled dopily at Louis for a second, before singing, “ _Ring ring._ ” Louis answered his fake phone again. “Hello?”“It's Harry.”

“Harry... Harry,” Louis hummed. “Harry Styles.”“Styles?” Louis teased.“Brown hair, green eyes?”

“It's not ringing a bell.”

“You're currently sat shirtless in his lap?”

“Ah! Harry Styles, le garçon between my legs, of course. What can I do for you?”

“I'd like to see if there's a church I could go to tonight. Or a youth group. One that's like... for gay people.”

Louis dropped the act along with Harry's hand – but Harry stubbornly pressed his hand-phone harder against Louis' ear.

“I have to be awake at three am tomorrow to get a stupid-early flight out,” he said more seriously. “Two,” Louis reluctantly corrected him.

“To go to a farm to film a whole stupid segment about mummy cows and daddy bulls making baby cows just the way god intended.”

Louis winced. “Really?”

“I've read the script,” Harry said flatly. “It's gross. I don't want people to think that's what I'm all about. So if Eleanor says people are talking, let them talk. Let the paparazzi photograph me walking into some place with a giant rainbow out the front.”

“That's big, Harry,” Louis said cautiously. “There might be repercussions.” Harry gave a sharp nod. “Good.”

“I mean – you don't have to ask my permission,” Louis reminded Harry. “You're free to do whatever you want. All I can say, is that this might be -”

“A statement,” Harry finished for him, letting his hand fall back to rest on Louis' neck. “Or the paparazzi might not even show at all,” Louis warned him.

“I'll go out the front entrance,” Harry said stubbornly. “I'll walk the whole way there. Will you help me pick out an outfit?”

“Of course. You know I can't go with you though, yes?”

Harry nodded. “Is it okay if I do go out, though? If I find something on tonight, that is. It's not mean to do something on my own?”

“Last night was probably the best night of my life,” Louis admitted. “My personal life, at least. I once shared a tiramisu with Donatella Versace. And Naomi Campbell once-” Louis caught Harry's face – eyebrows raised, biting his lip to contain some impatience. “Ah, never mind,” Louis laughed at himself. “You're too young to appreciate half my stories anyway. But last night was wonderful and that's all I can ask for. See if you can find a church to visit tonight.” Louis got of

Harry's lap, laying back on the loveseat and crossing his legs. “Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “You're good to me.”

“Perhaps,” Louis said. “But everything's a trade. Depending on how soon you have to leave, you're giving me a blowjob before you go.”

Harry quickly snatched Louis' phone up, typing something new into the Google search. “In that case, I'm finding the absolute latest service possible.”

 


End file.
